


Happily Ever After, After All

by RabbitRunnah



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Comfortable Domesticity, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Jack Zimmermann and Eric Bittle as parents, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Marriage, Takes place in a world where covid happened but it’s not a major part of the plot, Wedding Planning, canon compliant through end of comic, middle-aged Zimbits, original teenage/young adult characters, retired Jack Zimmermann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabbitRunnah/pseuds/RabbitRunnah
Summary: Jack Zimmermann and Eric Bittle have been happily married for years. Or so their kids think. Now that their secret's out, a wedding is in order.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 153
Kudos: 417
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very late gift to [eskildit](https://eskildit.tumblr.com), who won this fic in the 2019 Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Eskildit mentioned liking mature Zimbits, domesticity, and Jack Zimmermann as the father of a teenage daughter. I've done my best to incorporate these elements, and I really hope you enjoy it! Thank you for your donation to Life After Hate, and thank you for being so patient!
> 
> The basic premise of this fic is: What if Jack and Bitty had originally planned a Summer 2020 wedding, which got put off due to the pandemic and then put off indefinitely when their busy lives got in the way? And what if it was kind of an open secret to everybody except their children, who never realized their fathers weren't actually married? A little unrealistic maybe, but I couldn't resist playing with this idea.

_Hey, Dad. I’m thinking of stopping by this evening. Will you guys be around?_

_Of course, honey! Is everything okay?_

_Everything’s fine. Just miss you guys, and want to see you before next week’s roadie._

_Come on over and stay for dinner! I’ll make your favorite pie!_

_Thanks, Dad! See you soon. Love you!_

❤️❤️❤️

❤️❤️❤️

Bitty set his phone on the counter and began taking ingredients out for a cherry pie, his daughter Ellie’s favorite since she’d been old enough to indicate a preference for one type of dessert over another. With Ellie in college now, dinners together were a treat. If she wanted cherry pie, she’d get cherry pie.

Ellie was a sophomore at Samwell University, a mere 45 minutes away from the sprawling property Bitty and Jack had purchased following Jack’s retirement from hockey, but she didn’t spend very much time at home during the school year. They saw her frequently, at Ellie’s home hockey games and the occasional family event that demanded her presence, but she never stopped by just to have dinner. Bitty wished she’d bring her friends from the women’s hockey team around a little more often—with Jack retired and Ellie out of the house and their son Matthew not at all interested in playing hockey, he missed baking for hockey teams—but he understood. Ellie had a lot going on at school, and her social life was more exciting than the Bittle-Zimmermann family’s steady, quiet home life.

Bitty was running the water for dishes when he glanced out the window and saw Jack and Daisy, their old black Labrador Retriever, coming up the walk, both a little out of breath from their afternoon jog. His heart did an excited little flip at the sight. Jack, his partner, love of his life and father of his children, was still just as handsome as the day Bitty had fallen in love with him.

Bitty wasn’t entirely sure, exactly, when that day was. Had it been that afternoon in the Haus kitchen, when he first realized he had feelings for Jack? Was it after their first kiss? Or had it been later, after they’d been together for a summer, when he knew? Whenever it was, something had started that day in the kitchen and hadn’t stopped. Back then, Bitty hadn’t dreamed his stoic, handsome hockey captain could possibly have feelings for him but here they were twenty-five years later, living their happily ever after. Bitty glanced at theplatinum band he wore on his left hand, the symbol of their commitment to each other. Its shine was slightly dulled by some dried bits of dough stuck to it, and he brushed them off into the sink. 

“What are you smiling at?”

Bitty jumped at the voice behind him. “Gosh, I was so lost in my head I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I’m sneaky,” Jack said, reaching around Bitty to pull a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water from the tap. “Hot out there.”

Bitty wrinkled his nose. “Yes, I can tell. You’re stinky, too. You and the dog both.” He could hear Daisy drinking from her water bowl in the corner with great gulps, and mentally made a note to wipe the floor when she finished.

“You love it,” Jack said, pulling Bitty into a sweaty embrace.

“I do,” Bitty agreed. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and buried his face in his chest, inhaling the slight tang of Jack’s sweat, a smell he associated with hockey and sex and _Jack_. It was almost enough to make him abandon his pies and drag Jack straight to the bedroom. “But Ellie’s coming for dinner, and I know we’d all appreciate it if you take a shower before we eat.”

Jack’s face lit up. “El’s coming? That’s unusual. What’s the occasion?”

Bitty shrugged. “I don’t know. She texted just now and asked if she could come for dinner tonight. Dare I hope she actually misses her dear old dads and little brother?”

“That, or she needs you to bake 500 cupcakes for a bake sale next weekend.”

Bitty laughed. “Or that.” Although he’d assumed his sleepless nights as a parent were over once their kids learned to sleep through the night, they had a habit of making commitments they only remembered to tell him about at the very last minute. Just last week, Matty, a high school sophomore, had needed Rice Krispie treats for his mock trial team’s bake sale. If a surprise baked goods request was the price he had to pay for an unexpected visit from their daughter, Bitty could deal with it.

“Is the cherry pie for her?” Jack asked. The pies were already in the oven, but they’d been together long enough that Jack could usually tell what Bitty had baked based on the dishes in the sink.

“One for dessert and one to take back to the girls. I thought we could have salmon for dinner, if you want to grill. Or we can just order pizza.”

Jack nodded. “Let me shower and I’ll get the grill started. What time is she supposed to be here?”

Bitty glanced at the microwave clock. “Probably by the time these pies are ready to come out, so scoot!” 

“I’m scooting!” Jack laughed, deftly dodging the dish towel Bitty snapped in his direction. Bitty absently picked up a bowl and set it back down as he watched Jack head toward the stairs. Jack may be retired, but his hockey butt was still impressive.

“Admiring the view?” Jack asked, stopping abruptly and turning in Bitty’s direction. “You can join me.”

Bitty bit back a smile and spun back toward the sink, plunging his hands into the soapy water. There were worse things than getting caught ogling your own husband’s rear end. Like a dirty kitchen when company was coming! Even if that company was your own daughter who’d barely given any notice at all.

Truth be told, there was a little part of Bitty that was convinced something was wrong until Ellie let herself in and he could see she was her usual, sunny self. He searched her face for signs of fatigue due to late nights spent studying or partying, but she seemed alert and stress-free. She always had been a more conscientious student than Bitty had been, more like Jack in that way even though Bitty was her biological father. Shouldering past Bitty, she dropped her backpack on the floor and made a beeline for Daisy, who was lounging in a patch of sunlight.

“Hello, _mon ange_. I missed you so much,” Ellie cooed, crouching down and burying her face in Daisy’s neck, her long blond hair obscuring both of their faces as girl and dog shared a private moment. It would have made a sweet picture, if only Bitty hadn’t left his phone on the kitchen counter.

“How about a hug for your dad?” Bitty asked, unable to hold back. Now he knew how his mother had felt when he’d gone away to college, and Ellie wasn’t even an hour away!

“We need a Haus dog,” Ellie said, tearing herself away from Daisy and straightening up to give Bitty a proper hug. “I’m taking her with me.”

“You are not. Papa would be heartbroken to lose his running partner.”

“Why don’t you run with him anymore?”

“He can’t keep up with me with that knee of his. Daisy’s more his speed these days.”

“What’s that? You trash talking me, Bittle?” Jack asked, joining them in the living room. Freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a worn flannel Bitty loved, he looked comfortable and down-to-earth, the very image of a New England stay-at-home dad who chopped wood for the fire and helped out in the kitchen and always had one or two animals curled up in his lap when he sat down to watch TV. To wit, he was trailed by Cardamom, the formerly stray cat the kids had found wandering their property, matted and malnourished, a few years ago. Jack had been the one to take her to the vet and nurse her back to health. Now fat and spoiled, she followed him everywhere. Jack Zimmermann, Animal Whisperer was not a development Bitty had foreseen, but he couldn’t deny their pets preferred Jack. Retirement, and the slower pace of their rural life, agreed with him.

“Only telling the truth,” Bitty said sweetly. “You’re good for each other.”

“You can’t take my dog,” Jack said as he folded Ellie into a hug. “Come visit more often if you want to see her.”

“Speaking of,” Bitty said, “to what to we owe the pleasure?”

“Mm, just missed you,” Ellie hummed, in a way that suggested she _didn’t_ just miss her family. “Where’s Matty? Matts, come outside and play with me and Daisy!”

“Don’t overdo it,” Jack cautioned. “She’s not as spry as she used to be. She’s really slowed down on our runs.”

“Poor old girl,” Ellie murmured, patting the dog’s head. “Come on, let’s go find your ball.”

Bitty glanced at Jack. “What the hell?” he mouthed as Ellie and Daisy headed outside.

“Do you think she’s having trouble with her classes?” Jack asked.

“You know I had plenty of trouble with some of my classes, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it with my parents,” Bitty said.

“You didn’t tell your parents anything,” Jack reminded him.

“For good reason.” A new, horrifying thought occurred to Bitty. “Oh my lord, do you think she’s pregnant?”

“That was a leap.”

“I can’t help it, my mind always go to the worst case scenario.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst case scenario,” Jack said reasonably, and he was right. Whatever missteps they had made raising their kids—and they were only human, missteps happened—there was nothing they hadn’t yet been able to weather.

“Okay, well, she’s probably not failing her classes or carrying some random college kid’s love child,” Bitty conceded. “But something’s not right. Do you think she’s thinking of quitting the team?”

“I think we need to stop speculating and let her tell us in her own time,” Jack said. “Come on.” He placed a hand on the small of Bitty’s back and guided him into the kitchen. “Let’s make dinner.”

*

Few things made Bitty happier than when his entire family was gathered around the kitchen table, everyone in their usual places. Everybody told them it was a blessing Ellie was in college and living (mostly) on her own, that her independence was proof of his and Jack’s great parenting, but Bitty still wasn’t quite used to seeing her chair sit empty. This, the four of them gathered around the small round kitchen table, settled Bitty’s soul. In their usual places—Jack at twelve o’ clock, Bitty at six, Ellie and Matty at nine and three—Bitty could still see the kids as they’d been, in booster seats and bibs, eating off of plastic plates and drinking from sippy cups. When had they gotten so old? He’d blinked and his toddlers were grown! Or mostly grown, he amended, as Ellie and Matty bickered over a serving dish of potatoes.

“Please make him stop,” Ellie pleaded as Matty placed a third baked potato on his plate and added a dollop of sour cream large enough to obscure the potato beneath. “That’s disgusting.”

“Your brother is going through a growth spurt,” Bitty said calmly.

“I remember fifteen,” Jack added. “I couldn’t eat enough. Give him a break, kiddo.”

Matty didn’t say anything, just made eye contact with Ellie as he slowly dipped his spoon into the tub of sour cream and brought it to his lips. It didn’t even faze Bitty; he supposed he’d never really managed to escape living in a hockey house, even if none of its full-time occupants currently played the game.

Ellie pointedly looked away from her brother and cleared her throat. “You may be wondering why I called us all together tonight,” she began, sounding like a television detective about to announce a murder had occurred. She slowly looked around the table, making eye contact with each person before straightening up a little and smirking. Bitty knew the look well, as it was the one she used to give her high school debate opponents right before destroying their arguments.

“You ran out of money on your meal card?” Matty asked.

“You missed your dad’s cooking?” Jack asked.

“I’m sure it’s just because she missed _us_ ,” Bitty corrected. “ _Do_ you need more money, sweetheart?”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s not a money issue. And the dining hall food isn’t that bad, they’re still using the new menus you did for them a few years ago.”

Bitty beamed. “Do the kids like—”

“Yes, Dad,” Ellie said, waving away his concern. “As much as anybody _likes_ dining hall food. The chicken tenders are popular.”

“Couldn’t leave that old favorite off the menu.”

“Stop changing the subject,” Ellie said, all business. “I’m here because Kira Johnson, who graduated a couple years before I started, came over to the Haus yesterday.”

“Was she a forward?” Jack interrupted.

“Yes, but that’s not important. She was there because she and her girlfriend got engaged and—”

“Oh, do they need catering for their wedding?” Bitty asked.

“Stop interrupting, you guys! She was there to ask Bex and Abby to be her bridesmaids, and that got everybody talking about weddings, and weddings they’d been to. And then Corin showed us this hilarious picture of her parents at their wedding and that’s when I realized I’ve never seen your wedding pictures. In fact, I’ve never even heard you talk about your wedding, even though I’ve heard the story of how Papa proposed to Daddy a million times. And there’s only one way to explain that.” Ellie paused and narrowed her eyes, and that’s how Bitty knew she was about to deliver the final blow. “ _You aren’t married_.”

The low rumble of Jack’s laugh broke the silence. That was all it took to set Bitty off, and he was wiping a tear away when he looked at Ellie and realized she was the only person at the table who wasn’t laughing.

“It’s not funny!” As a toddler, Ellie had had a habit of banging a fist on the table when her emotions were too big for her little body, and she did it now, hard enough to rattle the silverware she’d laid across her plate. “I’m right, aren’t I? You aren’t married. Don’t bother to lie, I read your Wikipedia pages and all they say is that you’ve been in a committed relationship since 2015 and engaged since 2017.”

“But honey,” Bitty said, when his giggles finally subsided. “You _knew_ we’re not married.”

“I most certainly did not!” Ellie insisted. She swiveled away from Bitty to look at Matty. “Did _you_ know they aren’t married.”

Matty, who had been mostly silent as he inhaled his dinner, shrugged. “I guess I never really thought about it.”

“How on earth was I supposed to know you aren’t married? You wear rings. You call each other ‘husband.’ We sign our Christmas cards, ‘With love from the Bittle-Zimmermanns.’”

“We are the Bittle-Zimmermanns,” Jack said, deadpan.

“You knew we’re not married,” Bitty repeated, unable to believe this had never been clear to their children but also beginning to realize thatperhaps he and Jack had not as been as clear about their marital status as they should have been. “Every time we go to Georgia your grandmother makes a big speech about how she considered making us sleep in separate rooms because she doesn’t think it’s appropriate for unmarried couples to share a bed.”

“I thought she was _joking_ ,” Ellie wailed.

“And Papa Bob is always asking when I’m going to make an honest man out of Papa.”

“I thought… Well, I guess when I was younger I never understood what he meant by that. And now I'm thinking about what that means and that... is way more than I want to know.”

“Wait,” Matty piped up, “is that why Uncle Shitty is always reminding you he does weddings?”

“I always thought that was a joke, too! Oh my god, you guys. You aren’t married. How did that even happen?”

“We just—” Jack shrugged and looked at Bitty for help.

“We meant to—” Bitty said, equally stumped.

Jack sighed, resigned. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Spill,” she ordered.

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Lord, this child. Fine,” he said, “but why don’t you three clear the table while I slice this pie and get some coffee going. We can talk about this over dessert. Papa’s right. It’s kind of a long story.”

They’d always intended to get married.

Within hours of Jack’s proposal, Bitty had started a Pinterest board for their wedding, and within weeks he had a list of potential venues to tour. They’d agreed on a summer 2020 wedding; with Jack’s hockey schedule there was no way they’d be able to manage a wedding during the season, and Bitty needed to focus on growing his YouTube channel and meeting his book deadlines. With so much going on, they decided they just wanted to enjoy living together for a little while without the pressure of wedding planning hanging over them. A long engagement would also give Bitty time to establish himself in his profession; he knew and accepted Jack was a successful professional athlete, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be treated as Jack’s “trophy husband,” a title he’d seen flung around on Twitter. Eric Bittle was his own person, thank you very much.

By early 2020, most of the plans had been finalized for their July wedding. And then the pandemic put a hold on everything. They considered a virtual wedding, but Bitty couldn’t bear the thought of getting married without their friends and family present, so they decided to wait until they could reschedule.

“But when things finally started to get back to normal, we were both so busy!” Bitty told Ellie and Matty. “I’d finished the last round of edits on my second book during the lockdown and my publisher wanted me out on a book tour as soon as possible to promote it. And hockey was this whole big thing, first with the bubble season and then the return to regular play. We hardly had time together to decide on a new date, let alone call all the vendors and reschedule it all!”

“And then we started talking about starting a family,” Jack added. “We’d won another Cup and your dad was between books, and the timing just felt right.”

“Honestly, as much as I wanted a big ol’ fancy wedding, I wanted you more,” Bitty said, reaching over and patting Ellie’s hand. “It felt like with everything being so busy, we could plan for a baby or we could plan a wedding, but we couldn’t do both.

“Weren’t we going to go to the courthouse at one point?” Jack mused. “I swear we got the paperwork to fill out.”

“I think I put it in a pile of papers and forgot about it,” Bitty admitted. “Probably in that same pile of mail with the car registration we forgot to renew,” he said wryly. “You— ” he pointed at Ellie with his dessert fork “—had a fierce case of colic and nobody in this house was sleeping. We were just so tired all the time, neither of us could bear the idea of filling out the application and going to a government building and waiting in line. And we were doing fine!”

Ellie frowned a little as she chased after a cherry with her fork. “That is so messed up. I can’t believe you just decided not get married because you were busy.”

Bitty and Jack glanced at each other. “It wasn’t any one thing,” Jack finally told their daughter. “It was the virus, and work, and you—”

“Hey, don’t blame me! I’m the one who’s been living a lie all these years!”

“By the time you came along, and then your brother, it just didn’t seem as important,” Jack said. “We’d put it off for so long. We didn’t need an elaborate ceremony or a piece of paper to prove our love for each other. We were living it every day.” Jack looked a Bitty as he said this, and the raw affection in his eyes made Bitty’s heart melt all over again.

“Oh, you big romantic.”

“That _is_ pretty romantic,” Matty conceded.

“Do you know what else is romantic? Marriage. To the person you love and want to spend the rest of your life with. Like the father of your children. Who spent their whole lives assuming you were already married.”

“It’s all water under the bridge now,” Bitty said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Jack nodded. “We have a wonderful life together, and it’s not because we’re married or not married. It’s because we love each other.”

“You know,” Matty said as he slid another slice of pie onto his plate, “generations of queer couples fought for your right to get married. Don’t you think you owe it to them to actually do it?”

*

“Matty’s right,” Jack said later that night as they stood side-by-side at the bathroom counter getting ready for bed. “About marriage.”

Bitty spit his mouthwash into the sink and sighed. “I know.” He’d been thinking about it ever since Matty had brought it up. He remembered that long ago June day whensame-sex marriage had been legalized, how his phone had blown up with messages he couldn’t check right away because he was leading a group of campers on a hike. He surreptitiously read them on his lunch break, little glances in between cutting the crusts off campers’ bread and refilling juice cups, and kept his joy to himself. Later, on the drive home, the implication of the decision finally hit him and he pulled off the road and parked in a Walgreen’s parking lot and just cried.

He’d never really believed he’d be able to have the same thing his parents and grandparents had. Not the way he’d grown up. “Living in sin,” Mama called it whenever she brought up his cousin Julianne and her partner Rob, who had been together since college and had a five-year-old daughter but had never formalized their union in a marriage ceremony. They _seemed_ happy, but Bitty heard the way their older relatives, and even some of their other cousins, whispered about them. If a straight couple choosing to live together outside of marriage was sinful, what did that mean for him? Nothing hopeful, that was for sure. But now, he could finally see a way toward a future with a husband, maybe even children. He allowed himself to believe it could happen for him, with or without his parents’ blessing.

He and Jack talked about the news that night, quietly and in vague terms. They were only just getting started, didn’t even have a name for what they were to each other, but it was impossible not to think about it, what it might be like to stand with Jack in front of their friends and families and pledge to spend their lives together.

And that’s what they’d done. Not the standing in front of all their friends and family part, but the spending their lives together part. For better or for worse. Through winning and losing seasons, best sellers and books that didn’t sell as well as expected, hockey injuries and sick kids, family vacations and all of the kids’ extracurricular activities that had dominated these most recent years.

“I was so hopeful that day it became legal,” Bitty told Jack. “For the first time ever, maybe, because I could finally see myself having what everyone else had. Remember talking about it? I didn’t want to seem too eager and scare you off, but it was such a big deal.”

“You know I was already thinking about it,” Jack said in his plainspoken way.

“And then by the time Ellie came along, we already had what our parents had. I don’t feel like we’re any less of a family because we aren’t married. Do you?” Bitty asked, unsure if he was trying to reassure himself or Jack that they'd made the right decision all those years ago.

“No,” Jack said, face serious. “But now that I’m retired and we’re not so busy with the kids—” He crossed to the other side of the bathroom. “Eric Bittle,” Jack said as he slowly dropped to one knee, “will you finally marry me?”

This wasn’t Jack’s first proposal, and they’d been as good as married for twenty-five years, but Bitty’s heart beat a little faster anyway. “Oh, you.” He joined Jack on the floor. “Sweetheart, of course I’ll marry you. Better late than never, right?”

“Ha ha. As Papa likes to say, you’ll finally make an honest man of me.”

Bitty smirked. “I think it’s a little late for that.” He leaned forward and gave Jack a not-quite-chaste kiss.

“Bits,” Jack grunted just as they really got going. He pressed a hand to the floor to brace himself. “Let’s not do this here, eh? This floor is cold and my knees are killing me.”

“Oh thank god, mine are too!” Bitty giggled as he slowly stood up, wincing at the tightness in his back. He extended a hand to help Jack up. “You sure you don’t want to turn me in for a newer model?”

“Hm.” Jack pretended to consider it. “Does the newer model make pie?”

“You!” Bitty gave Jack’s ass a little pinch. “Keep it up and you might have to find out.” He spun away from Jack to head to bed and was stopped by a pair of strong arms around his waist.

“Don’t want a new model,” Jack whispered in Bitty’s ear, sending a little shiver of desire straight down his body. “Only you.”

“I can’t believe we're finally gonna get married.” Bitty relaxed against Jack’s broad chest and timed his breathing to Jack’s. Sometimes, when they held each other like this, the stress of the day and everything else just fell away. He could feel Jack’s heart beating, almost perfectly in time with his own.

“Bed?” Jack finally whispered. Bitty nodded and they shuffled over as a unit.

It was only later, as he was drifting off to sleep, that a new thought occurred to Bitty. “Oh my lord, honey!” he said, poking at a lightly snoring Jack until he opened his eyes. “This means we have to plan a wedding!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease: The rumors are true: After 25 years together, Jack and I are finally tying the knot! #betterlatethannever

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease: Yes, I think 23 years is a perfectly reasonable length time to be engaged. How else can you be sure you really know a person?

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease: My secret to staying sane while wedding planning? Putting my teenage children in charge of most of it! There are advantages to a long engagement.

Ellie Bittle-Zimmermann may have had both of her fathers’ names, but there was no doubt in Jack’s mind that she was all Bittle. It wasn’t just that she resembled Bitty, it was the fact that she loved to plan a party. Bitty, who was always in the middle of three or four projects related to his “brand” at any given time, had initially fretted about the time and stress involved in wedding planning. But then Ellie had stepped in, with binders and websites, and insisted she and Matty would take the lead.

(Matty was not quite as enthusiastic, until Ellie informed him he could be in charge of food and entertainment. She had always been good at delegating toward people’s strengths. Jack had a feeling she’d be made captain before her time on the Samwell women’s hockey team was over.)

The only detail Jack and Bitty insisted on was a summer wedding at home. There was no reason not to have a wedding here. They’d bought the property with entertaining in mind, intending to use the restored barn and open field for events and photo shoots. It had been featured in Bitty’s own books and magazine spreads, as well as in his show. The kids initially balked at the simplicity, seeing their visions of an elaborate destination wedding dashed, but giving them free rein over the rest of the details seemed to appease them.

Jack smiled to see Bitty and Ellie sitting side-by-side at the kitchen table, huddled over a mess of sketches and invitation samples and Ellie’s laptop. Their children might have guilt tripped them into getting married, but Jack couldn’t deny that planning this wedding together was a positive development. For the past month, Ellie had come over every Wednesday evening and some Sundays, and Jack hadn’t missed the way her visits always seemed to lift Bitty’s spirits. It was only eight months ago that a regime shift at Bitty’s longtime network had resulted in the cancellation of his Emmy-winning cooking and lifestyle show. Bitty had filmed a pilot for a rival network and was now waiting in limbo for it to be picked up; wedding planning was a good distraction.

“Everything going well?” Jack asked, pulling a carton of ice cream out of the freezer and three bowls from the cupboard.

“We have to make appointments with Abel soon, or we’ll have to buy off-the-rack suits,” Bitty said direly. “Do you have time to do that next week?”

Jack could think of several worse things than having to buy an off-the-rack suit, but decided to humor Bitty. They’d both been using the same tailor for years—Bitty because he had a taste for custom bespoke suits, Jack because his body was decidedly _not_ off-the-rack—and it had been way too long since Jack had seen Abel. Which meant (in Bitty’s view, at least), he was long overdue for a new suit. If he tried to convince Bitty he could wear the suit he’d worn to Ellie’s high school graduation two years ago, Bitty would just tell him it was no longer in style.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Jack said. He set the bowls of ice cream on the table and took a seat next to Bitty. “What else have we got?”

“ _Well_.” Bitty angled the laptop so Jack could see it better. “It seems our daughter has wrangled the help of the Samwell men’s _and_ women’s hockey teams, so setup and teardown will be taken care of. We’ll have to rent some tables and chairs and linens, but El is pricing those out right now.”

“We need to pick colors.” Ellie pointed to a the screen, opened to a vendor’s website. “Blue and yellow? Teal and pink? Maroon and blue? It’s important if you want table linens to match the rest of the decor.”

“Blue and yellow is very …” Bitty paused, and Jack could tell he was trying to be tactful. “They’re lovely colors, but we’re not marrying the Falconers.”

“Papa?” Ellie asked.

“What do you think?” Jack asked, not because he didn’t have an opinion, but because he genuinely wanted Ellie to have a say.

“I think pink and teal are more appropriate for a summer wedding. I also don’t want to wear a dress that’s the same color as my hockey uniform.”

“Then I vote for pink and teal. Bits?”

“Those were gonna be my first choice, too.”

“Sweet.” Ellie made a note in her binder. “Make sure you tell Abel when you go for your fittings; you’ll need to get ties to match.”

“Where are we on food?” Bitty asked. “Is Matty taking care of that?”

“Matty!” Ellie bellowed. “Get down here!”

Matty appeared, looking ridiculous in a pair of track pants and an old shirt from middle school, both of which were at least an inch too short.

“Did you wear that in public?” Ellie asked. “You look like a homeless clown.”

“Do you wear your face in public?” Matty shot back. “Is this important? I’m in the middle of a game.” He wandered over to the freezer and pulled out the ice cream.

“Get a bowl,” Bitty said without looking up. Matty sighed and took a bowl out of the cupboard, then made several grunting sounds of disgust as he scooped the ice cream into it. “So dramatic,” Bitty said.

“Tell the dads about the menu,” Ellie said as Matty flopped into his chair, all gangly arms and legs like Jack had briefly been at 15, that weird in-between stage between shedding his baby fat and bulking up for hockey. 

“Food trucks,” Matty said, and took a bite of his ice cream.

“Food trucks?” Bitty asked skeptically.

“We thought about having it catered,” Ellie explained, “but who wants to eat some boring piece of steak or chicken?”

“But if we get a couple food trucks to come out, everybody can have what they want. If somebody wants pizza, they can have pizza. Tacos, great. There’s even one that has a burger with glazed doughnuts for buns.”

“And people can eat whenever they want,” Ellie added. “It gives everybody more time to mingle and just hang out. Look—” she slid a piece of paper with a sketch on it toward the middle of the table “—we can park them over at the edge of the property and have a little food truck village. Dad, you can make dessert if you really want to, but we’ve already found a shave ice truck and a churro truck and the rates for all of them are pretty reasonable.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Jack said thoughtfully. Tacos and burgers (though maybe not doughnut burgers) _did_ sound better than the typical catered fare he’d had at what had to amount to hundreds of events over the years.

“It could actually be kind of fun,” Bitty agreed.

“Told you,” Matty said triumphantly, with a look in Ellie’s direction that indicated they hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye on this point.

“I _said_ it was a good idea,” Ellie said. “I just didn’t know if they would go for it. Okay,” she said, turning back to the laptop and clicking over to Pinterest. A board full of dresses filled the screen. “Corin said she’d come with me into Boston to try on bridesmaid dresses. Aunt Larissa is going to meet us there. I’ll take pictures of the top three and we can decide together.”

“I trust you,” Bitty said. “You’re the one who’s going to be wearing it.”

“I agree,” Jack said. “You should choose something you feel good in.” He was pretty sure they’d all look the same to him, anyway.

“Before I head back, there’s one more thing I want to talk to you guys about,” Ellie said, looking from Jack to Bitty. Her smile set alarm bells off in Jack’s brain. It wasn’t the sly smile of a child trying to get away with something, or the giddy grin she hadn’t been able to suppress when Jack and Bitty had announced their new “engagement.” It was something soft and barely-there, like she didn’t even realize her expression had changed. “I’m bringing a date to the wedding. It’s somebody I’ve been seeing for a little while.”

“Somebody from school?” Jack asked.

“A little while as in how long?” Bitty asked, getting straight to the point.

“He plays hockey,” Ellie said, unable to hide her smile, “and that’s all I’m telling you. It’s still pretty new.”

Bitty opened his mouth to ask another question and was silenced by the firm pressure of Jack’s ankle against his under the table. “Matty?” Bitty asked instead. “Is there anybody special you’d like to invite?”

Approximately nine months earlier they’d been eating dinner when Matty had announced, in between bites of cheeseburger, “So, I’m pretty sure I’m bi,” and said nothing more. As much as Jack wanted to know if the declaration had been promoted by a crush, or even a relationship, it was clear Matty wasn’t ready to elaborate. Since then, there had been a few school dances, but Matty had always gone with a big group of friends. Jack knew it was killing Bitty that Matty didn’t want to talk about it, but Jack understood. At 15, Jack had been pretty sure he wasn’t straight, having experienced attraction to both boys and girls, but he’d also had no interest in dating. The two were not mutually exclusive.

“Can I invite a few people from Mock Trial?”

Bitty and Jack shared a split-second glance. “Sure,” Bitty said, “but you know, if you want to bring a date, we’d be happy to include them.”

“Cool.”

Bitty and Jack shared another glance.

“Well, I have to go,” Ellie said, pushing off of her chair and shoving her papers into her binder. The papers and laptop got shoved into her overstuffed bag, and Jack wondered how she ever found anything.

“You coming on Sunday?” Bitty asked.

“We have morning practice and I have to work on a paper. But I can stop by for dinner. I’ll get in touch with some food trucks this week and we can narrow down our choices.”

“You know you can bring your beau. He’s more than welcome to join us.”

“‘ _Beau?_ ’ Dad, that is so old fashioned. He has a game on Sunday. You’ll meet him at the wedding.”

“But—” Jack placed a hand on Bitty’s knee. “Okay, drive safely. And don’t forget your food!” Bitty ran to the fridge and took out three containers of leftovers he’d lovingly prepared for Ellie to take back to school, then snatched a plastic bag full of cookies off the counter. He placed it all in a canvas bag that hung on a rack by the door.

“I can take that,” Jack said, shouldering the bag as Bitty and Ellie hugged goodbye. He followed Ellie outside and walked with her to her car. “Do you want me to drive you back to school?” he asked as she threw her backpack into the passenger seat. “I don’t mind. You can leave your car here for the week.”

“Aw, Papa, you don’t have to do that. I’d just have to get a ride back out here on Sunday.”

“I used to drive your dad back and pick him up all the time when he didn’t have a car.” They’d been so in love, and so horny, that a 45 minute drive each way to spend eight hours together—most of them asleep—had been worth it. It seemed unbelievable that that had been twenty-five years ago. It felt like yesterday.

“Has anybody ever told you two you’re perfect?” Ellie asked. “It’s a lot to have to live up to.”

“We’re not perfect,” Jack insisted. “You know we didn’t see eye-to-eye at first, and even now we don’t agree on everything. We just work hard to make things work.” 

It was true, and Jack had always taken great pains to make sure reporters told the truth about him, and them. That the reason they had the relationship they did was due, in no small part, to hours of therapy for both of them and the meds Jack still took and the commitment they'd made, early on, to communicate instead of bottling things up. It hadn't always been smooth sailing, either; that first year after Jack retired had been hell on the entire family. They'd worked through it.

“Well, it’s worked for you.”

“Do you and your … _beau—_ ” Jack and Ellie both snorted “—like each other? Do you treat each other well?” Jack of course wanted to assume the best, that they did like each other, but he’d been in college once. For some people, casual sex was enough, if not the goal.

“Yeah. We do.” Ellie wrapped her arms around herself to protect against the chill of the spring evening.

“Here, take this,” Jack said, pulling his hoodie over his head.

“Papa, you don’t have to—”

“Take it,” Jack insisted. “I have a half dozen just like it.”

“Thank you,” Ellie whispered, putting the hoodie on and rolling the cuffs until they didn’t cover her hands. “This guy, I think you’ll like him. He’s really great. And so easy to talk to. We’ve been friends for a while and we just got really close, you know?”

Jack nodded. “I might know something about that. You said he also plays hockey?”

“Yeah, such a cliché, right? Who ever would have guessed?”

“At least you have a lot to talk about.”

“Jesus, Papa, there are other things to talk about besides hockey,” Ellie said, but she was laughing. “Yeah, we do talk a lot about hockey,” she admitted. “But sometimes we don’t talk at all, and that’s nice too. I’m teaching him to bake.” She smiled so softly, and looked so like Bitty, that Jack had the unmistakable feeling that whoever this guy was, she was going to marry him.

Ellie was in love and Jack’s world was a little upended. It wasn’t that she’d never been interested in boys; there were childhood crushes and group dates and even a longterm boyfriend the duration of her junior year of high school. But this felt different. The way she was so obviously trying to hold it close by telling him _just_ enough reminded Jack of the first time he told his parents about Bitty. Not that it was Bitty he was dating; that had come later. But that he was seeing somebody, and was happy.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you back?” Jack asked, suddenly aware that his days of doing this were numbered. Whether or not Ellie married this guy, she had only two more years of college after this semester. Even if she stayed in the area for a job or grad school, it wouldn’t be the same.

“I’m _really_ good,” Ellie said, allowing Jack to give her another tight hug before getting into the car. “Tell Dad he’ll like him, okay? I know it’s going to drive him crazy not knowing anything about him.”

“I’ll do that,” Jack said, even though he felt a little dizzy, like he might be the one going a little crazy.

Ellie finally closed the door and started the car, gave a little wave as she backed out of the driveway. Jack stared into the distance long after her taillights faded away, until the chill of the night began to seep through his thin t-shirt and he remembered he’d given his sweatshirt to Ellie. He turned back to the house and saw Bitty’s silhouette in the kitchen window, head bowed toward the sink, and the sight was so comforting and familiar that it grounded Jack and brought him back to himself.

“I think I’m having a midlife crisis,” he told Bitty as the door slammed behind him.

“Um, okay?” Bitty placed the last ice cream bowl in the dishwasher and turned it on. “Again? Did anything in particular bring this one on?”

“She has a boyfriend.”

“Isn’t that something? I hope she doesn’t wait until the wedding to bring him around! I want to know everything about him. I’ll have to have her ask him what kind of pie he likes. Do you think he likes pie? Lord, I hope he’s not as strict about his diet as you were when we first met, he’ll never fit into this family if—”

“I think it’s serious.”

Bitty must have seen the raw panic in his eyes because he placed both hands on Jack’s shoulders and inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to breathe in and out until Jack matched him, breath for breath.

“She’s a sophomore in college,” Bitty said gently. “College kids date, honey. I think I’d be more worried if she _weren’t_ dating.”

Jack didn’t know how to tell Bitty that he hadn’t seen what Jack had seen, that the look in Ellie’s eyes when she talked about The Boyfriend was the exact same look he’d seen in Bitty’s eyes the first time they’d said ‘I love you.’

“And even if she does marry the guy,” Bitty continued, clearly intuiting the turn Jack’s thoughts had taken, “she’d wait until after she graduates. We didn’t raise a fool. That’s a minimum of two years away and hopefully,” he laughed, “all this wedding planning will put her off of wanting to do it again for a while. And you know what? Even when she does get married— _if_ she gets married, she’ll still be our little girl. We’re not gonna lose her.”

Bitty was right, of course. He would know. He still talked to his parents for an hour, minimum, every Sunday. Jack and his father took a weeklong fishing trip every summer, just the two of them. But it wasn’t the same, and sooner or later, Jack knew, he and Bitty would have to figure out out to be parents of adults. It barely seemed fair, given they’d only just gotten a handle on parenting teenagers.

“At least we still have Matty for a few more years,” Jack said.

“Lord, at the rate things are going, Matty will be here forever. And you know what? I can’t say I’d mind. He’s turning out to be quite the sous-chef.”

Jack laughed. “You mean when he’s not eating the ingredients?”

“Well.” Bitty shook his head with the resigned air of somebody who had long since given up on trying to segregate baking ingredients from snacks. “It’s a work in progress. He did replace the marshmallows this last time.”

Matthew, for all his teenage carelessness, was their serious child, and the only member of the family who didn’t play hockey. He’d done a year or two on a local peewee team, coached by Jack, but he never took to the ice like his parents or sister. Soccer, baseball, and swimming all met with a similar fate. And then he found tennis, of all things. Matty was an average player, good enough to make his high school’s JV team, and he seemed happy with that. It was a little strange to have a child who just did not share the rest of the family’s competitive drive, but Matty had a good heart and a sweet spirit. Like Bitty, Jack often thought. Both of their kids were good evidence that nature and nurture played a role in development.

“I’m glad she trusts us with this,” Bitty said, as if picking up on Jack’s train of thought. “She could have taken after me and announced her relationship on national TV. Compared to us, she’s downright boring.”

Jack chuckled. “Thank goodness for small mercies. I don’t think your mother could handle another moment like that.”

“I don’t think _you_ could handle a moment like that, if this is the state you’re in right now.” He wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and pressed his cheek into his chest. “Look at me, the voice of reason. You know I’m gonna be a big mess when she actually gets married.”

Bitty had cried at Ellie’s preschool graduation, first school dance, and last hockey game of her high school career. He’d cried when she signed with Samwell and again when they moved her into her dorm. Jack didn’t doubt he would be the one talking Bitty down when it was Ellie’s turn to get married.

“Come on,” Bitty whispered. “Let’s go sleep this off.”

They stuck their heads into Matty’s bedroom on the way to their own, to say goodnight and make sure he’d finished his homework. “Don’t stay up too late,” Jack said. Matty flashed them a thumbs up and turned back toward his computer and whatever game he was invested in.

Bitty decided he wanted to take a shower, so Jack changed by himself and turned the TV on, intending to watch _SportsCenter_ , when the iPad on his nightstand caught his eye. He knew he shouldn’t, he should just watch the day’s sports highlights so he could talk about them with his dad tomorrow, but curiosity started to get the better of him. When he heard the shower turn on, he reached for his reading glasses and the iPad.

It wasn’t an invasion of Ellie’s privacy, he reasoned, if he just wanted to see how SMH had fared in its most recent game. He and Bitty still kept up with the team, especially since Chris Chow’s son Mark was its current starting goalie, but they didn’t follow it as closely as they used to. He’d missed the most recent scores. Of course it was reasonable to check and see how those games had played out.

He opened the bookmark for Samwell’s sports programs and quickly found what he was looking for: full recordings of the most recent games, as well as several highlight compilations. He opened the first highlight video and turned down the volume to better focus on the action on the ice.

Jack had played with and against hundreds of guys in his career, and while you couldn’t always judge a player’s character based on his playing style, there were always some clues. He knew his daughter well enough that surely the one she was dating would stand out to him.

He was engrossed in a video entitled “Best Assists” when Bitty caught him. “You look like you’re reviewing tape,” he chirped.

“I am,” Jack admitted sheepishly, as his eyes refocused on Bitty, freshly showered and dressed in a a pair of flannel pants and a matching blue t-shirt. With age, Bitty's bedtime attire had become more modest, but that didn't mean Jack found it any less attractive. He knew what was underneath.

"Oh? Who played today?" Bitty asked, eyebrow raised like he already knew the answer.

Jack handed the iPad to Bitty as he climbed into bed beside him. “This season’s SMH team. Just trying to figure out which one it could be.”

“And you think I’m the nosy one,” Bitty teased, handing the tablet back to Jack. “You’re ridiculous. Can you imagine if your father—”

“He did. Saw something about you before I did.”

“Oh.” Bitty adjusted the covers and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. “So do you have any leads?” he asked sleepily.

“Not really. I think I’ve eliminated a few. Like, this Berry kid—” he pointed at a dark-haired D-man. “Too flashy. You know she goes for the quieter types.”

“What about Pierce?” Bitty pointed to the team’s current leading scorer, a kid from Minnesota who’d played a couple years in Juniors and was a favorite to sign with a NHL team after graduation. He was quick on his feet and his ability to find the puck and get into scoring position had powered the team to three come-from-behind victories this season. Jack could see—or maybe he just wanted to see—Ellie with somebody like that.

“He reminds me of you,” Bitty said. “Look at the way he caught that pass without even looking.”

“If that’s the case, he’s in love with his winger and doesn’t know it yet.”

“Ooh, 32 over there? I can see that. They’d be cute together.”

“Guess we should cross both of them off the list.”

“Maybe Ivan?” Bitty pointed at the other D-man, a baby-faced kid from Ukraine who had endeared himself to Bitty during family weekend when he told him he’d learned English by watching Bitty’s show.

“Hm. Maybe.” Jack flipped the cover over the iPad and set it on his lap. “I should just let her tell us in her own time.”

“It’s new,” Bitty said. “Think about it from her perspective. She's the one who has to introduce this guy to _the_ Jack Zimmermann. Can you imagine what must be going through his head? That's way beyond normal meet-the-parents pressure. Maybe she wants to keep it to herself because she knew we’d do this. I was a nervous wreck meeting your dad, and we weren't even a thing!”

“I’m not going to judge her boyfriend on his stats,” Jack grumbled.

“You might just a little,” Bitty argued.

“Maybe a little,” Jack admitted. “Mostly, I want to make sure he’s a good guy.”

“Honey, it’s Ellie we’re talking about. She’s a good kid. Besides, what are we really gonna learn from watching a few minutes of a hockey game? Let’s go to bed.”

It was Ellie’s life, Jack reminded himself. And first impressions weren’t always correct.If he’d followed his first instinct about Bitty, they wouldn’t be here right now.

“Spending too much time inside your head?” Bitty asked. He picked up the iPad and reached across Jack to set it back on the nightstand. “I think that we should stop focusing on the identity of our daughter’s mystery man and focus on each other instead,” he said, nuzzling into Jack’s neck.

Jack allowed Bitty to pull him down and they slowly began to undress each other. Sex with Bitty, whether playful or rough or relaxed, was always familiar and intimate, the result of years of learning each other’s bodies and preferences. Tonight they were slow and deliberate, as if they both needed a little extra care.

Sated, Jack felt himself relax even more as Bitty gently traced his fingers over his chest in feather light, soothing circles. Sometimes they said ‘I love you’ and sometimes it was just this, silent touches and quiet breaths, two bodies that knew each other so well words weren’t necessary.


	3. Chapter 3

_Don’t make plans for Friday night, we’re going out._

_Is this a bachelor party thing?_

_Can’t confirm, it’s a surprise._

_Just make sure that man of yours doesn’t weasel his way out._

_I hope you’re planning an early night. He goes to bed at like 10._

_All will be revealed in time, Bits._

When Bitty woke up on the Friday of their joint bachelor party, fully rested after a late night in the kitchen, Jack’s side of the bed was cold.

Jack still got up at five almost every morning. He’d tried sleeping in, back when he first retired and didn’t _need_ to be up until it was time to get the kids up and ready for school, but it didn’t stick. He was back to his normal schedule within two months, running five miles before Bitty even stirred.

These days that run was more often a walk with Daisy, but he still started the morning by making coffee.

Moving in together after Bitty’s graduation from Samwell, living together for real, had been a wakeup call. The bad habits they’d been able to overlook when they lived together in the Haus and when Bitty stayed over were suddenly out there, in stark relief. They learned, for instance, that while Bitty was happy to partake of the coffee Jack made every morning, he wasn’t much for throwing away the filter or cleaning out the pot, even when Jack was gone all day and Bitty was the only one who drank it. He had good intentions, he really did, but after a day or two of remembering to clean it he inevitably fell back into his old habits.

Jack nagged him about it for a few months, then stopped altogether. He cleaned the coffee maker every night and ground the beans every morning and set it to brew before he left for his morning run, so it would be ready when he returned or if Bitty happened to get up early. Over the years the routine had gotten more elaborate, as they upgraded their coffeemaker and Jack experimented with different grinders and beans. Bitty might be able to make the perfect dessert for any occasion, but Jack made a perfect cup of coffee. It was one of the ways he said “I love you” without saying the words.

Bitty pulled on a pair sweatpants and his slippers and padded out to find Jack at the kitchen table with his coffee and a book. They’d brought the table back from Georgia after MooMaw passed, and it was Bitty’s favorite thing in the entire kitchen. Each time he sat down at it he remembered all the times he sat there with MooMaw, all the Sunday dinners eaten and Christmas cookies decorated and conversations over sweet tea and pie. Mama hadn’t understood why he wanted it; it wasn’t in style and surely they could afford something nicer, she scoffed—even the consignment shop had told them they wouldn’t get very much for it. But it held sentimental value for Bitty, and Jack liked old things. If nobody else in the family wanted it, they would take it. Mama finally relented and offered to have it refinished before they picked it up, but Bitty liked it the way it was, each familiar scratch and stain hinting at long-forgotten stories. Now, it told their stories too: a blue dot of acrylic paint from one of Ellie’s art projects, the ‘M’ Matty had scratched into it when he was learning to write his name.

“Good morning, Sweetpea,” Bitty said, dropping a kiss on the back of Jack’s neck before filling his “Samwell Dad” mug with coffee. He poured in some milk and stirred in some sugar because he still preferred his coffee on the sweeter side.

The morning light streaming in through the kitchen window lit Jack with a warm glow and Bitty leaned against the counter, content to sip his coffee and watch Jack for a while. Jack had been retired for almost a decade, but their lives hadn’t slowed down right away. Not with Bitty’s career on the upswing, two young kids, and Jack’s post-retirement side projects. Now, with Ellie in college and Matthew in high school—and Bitty not tied to a filming schedule for the first time in years—they finally had time. Time to live in the moment instead of stealing moments, only to be disappointed when it was interrupted by an urgent work call or a sick child. Time to slow down and enjoy morning coffee in their kitchen, together. In a half hour Matty’s alarm would go off and they’d hear him clattering around getting ready for school before he came down for breakfast, but for now they had time.

Bitty plated two of the lemon-lavender scones he baked last night and took them to the table, setting one in front of Jack. “Let me know what you think. I think they were too lemony last time.” His upcoming book was organized by season, and he was still tinkering with this recipe.

Jack set his book down and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “More lemon?”

“Oh, just try it. We’ll be in berry season soon enough. Is the lemon icing too much?”

Jack chewed thoughtfully. “Have you tried it without the icing?”

Bitty considered this. “I can make a batch without, see if that changes things.”

“It’s good, Bits,” Jack reassured him. “Maybe a little too sugary. Kind of masks the flavor.”

“Good, that’s good,” Bitty said, making a note in his phone. “I needed to hear that. I’ll make another batch this weekend. Maybe Ellie can take them back to school. Lord knows we don’t need any more around here.”

“Get them done by tonight and you can take them to the party.”

“I’m taking brownies,” Bitty said. “ _Regular_ brownies, no matter what Shitty says.” A bachelor party was one thing, but Bitty was over partying like they still lived in a frat house together.

Shitty claimed to be devastated when Bitty and Jack informed him they wanted the kids to serve as their best man and maid of honor, but had perked right up when they asked him to perform the service. In exchange for “the emotional pain and suffering incurred due to the demotion from best man to regular wedding guest,” he’d also extracted a promise to let him plan a bachelor party.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Bitty demurred, recalling the post-Cup party Shitty had hastily thrown together after the Falconers’ second championship. “It’s the thought that counts. Everybody is so busy these days, it’s enough that you’re all making the effort to get out here for the wedding.”

Time had a way of scattering people. Although Bitty used to think either his or Jack’s career would take them away from New England, it was their friends who’d left. First Chowder and Caitlin, who moved back to California when Chowder got picked up by the Sharks. Dex was also on the West Coast, working in the tech industry. Nursey was currently teaching at the University of Milwaukee, in Wisconsin. Even Ransom and Holster moved away, eventually. They’d remained in Boston for several years until their company sent them to Houston to open a new branch; Now executives with the company, Holster was still there, but Ransom had transferred to the San Diego office a few years ago to be closer to his wife’s family. Only Shitty and Lardo were still nearby, in Boston.

Bitty still saw most of them pretty often, thanks to book tours and filming on location. But it had been so long since they’d _all_ been together that he could barely remember the occasion. He cried when they’d announced the wedding in the group chat and everybody promised they’d fly out for it. He was even more moved when Shitty told him Ransom and Holster were coming out for the bachelor party Bitty and Jack had tried to talk him out of throwing.

“Isn’t the point of a bachelor party to have one last hurrah before settling down?” Jack asked. He’d been to his share of raucous NHL bachelor parties, and had always confided to Bitty afterward that he didn’t understand the point. “It’s a little late for that.”

“Not my fault, brah,” Shitty said. “You’re the ones who took forever to make it official.”

“I like to think we skipped ahead to the good part,” Bitty said.

“You’re not getting out of it.”

So yes, they had to go through with it, even though they’d spent the previous weekend in New York for one of Ellie’s games, and the weekend before that at Matty’s debate tournament. A relaxing weekend, it seemed, was not in the cards.

“Do you know what he has planned?” Jack asked now.

“He hasn’t breathed a word to me. Nothing that’ll get us in the tabloids right before my new show gets picked up, I hope.”

One of the best pieces of advice Bad Bob had ever given them was, “Don’t give it all away. Keep something for yourselves.” Bitty knew Bob meant they should keep some things to themselves, that not every private moment or milestone should be plastered all over their social media feeds. But he’d also heard it as a warning to stay out of trouble. Maybe a trashed hotel room or wild night out on the town wouldn’t ruin a career, but it was the wrong kind of attention for Bitty’s wholesome, family-friendly brand and for Jack, who had worked so hard to make the press forget about his youthful indiscretions.

Not that Bitty was _too_ worried about Shitty’s plans. Shitty would always be Shitty, but he’d mellowed a bit over the years, a development Bitty attributed equally to fatherhood and becoming a judge. ( _A bit_ being the operative words. Shitty claimed to enjoy being a judge more than a lawyer because he could get away with wearing only boxers under his robes. Bitty was never sure if he should take him seriously.)

Jack took another bite of his scone. Bitty could tell he was coming around to the sweetness, even if he would never admit it. He raised an eyebrow. “Change your mind about the icing?”

“Maybe,” Jack allowed. “Just a bit. I still think you should try a batch without.”

Bitty laughed. “You keep saying that, Mr. Zimmermann. The rest are on the counter if you want another.”

The ‘ping’ of an incoming text interrupted whatever Jack was going to say. “Was that you or me?” Jack asked as they both looked at their phones, to discover it was a message from Shitty in the old SMH group chat: _Tonight’s first destination is the place where it all began. Your captains Ransom and Holster have called an emergency practice at 5:30 pm. Bring your skates and a stick._

“Faber?” Bitty asked.

“Must be. Do you think El’s involved?”

“She’s been involved in everything having to do with this wedding so far. Though, I’m not sure I love the idea of our little girl at our bachelor party. Huh. Guess I’ll have to make extra brownies.”

Jack just laughed as Bitty began to pull bowls and ingredients out of the cupboards.

*

The day passed quickly. Jack drove Matty to school while Bitty got to work on another batch of scones and the brownies he’d somehow gotten roped into making for his own party. Then he retreated to his office, where he put his notes in a spreadsheet and scheduled some social media posts.

Even during their busiest years, Bitty insisted on running his social media accounts himself instead of offloading that responsibility onto an assistant. He’d found his voice talking directly to his followers, and didn’t want to lose that connection.

It took him a little bit of time to find a balance. Jack, the NCAA championship win, and the book deal brought him more followers than he’d ever had, people who’d never even heard of the baking vlog he filmed in his bedroom. So the public Instagram feed his publisher asked him to set up only celebrated the pies that turned out, the flowers Jack sent when their competing travel schedules kept them apart for three weeks. The story he curated was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. It didn’t show the burnt crusts on test pies 1 through 5, or the empty bowl of ice cream Bitty ate for dinner because he’d spent all day in the kitchen burning pies and couldn’t even muster the energy to order takeout, let alone make dinner for one again. It didn’t show _them_. It was just a fun house mirror, a distorted reality that was pretty to look at but ultimately an illusion.

It took a little time to find a balance, a way to seem relatable without giving away too much, as his father-in-law would say. When he stopped focusing on being perfect, and got back to being Eric Bittle, everything came naturally and to his surprise, his follower count increased. That wasn’t to say he didn’t get his fair share of trolls. There would always be people who disagreed with his “lifestyle” (though, thankfully in 2040, it was becoming less common), or—back when Jack was playing—“fans” who aired their grievances to Bitty. That came with the territory, and Bitty did his best to ignore the haters. 

He adjusted the color on the picture of his scones on the counter and added a caption: “This must be the 37th batch of lemon-lavender scones I’ve made in the past two weeks. Like all of us, she’s a work in progress.”

He worked into the afternoon, only surfacing when Jack tapped on the door and poked his head in. “We should probably start getting ready, if we want to be there on time.”

Bitty looked up from the photo he was editing. “It’s five already?”

“It’s four. But there’ll be traffic and you probably want to shower.”

Bitty looked down at his t-shirt, which still bore smudges of cocoa and flour from this morning’s baking. “Might as well shower then,” he said, standing up from his desk chair and stretching.

By the time he was showered and changed, Matty was home from debate practice. Bitty found him in the kitchen, standing at the counter and eating a scone while smiling down at something on his phone. “Is it too sweet?” Bitty asked.

Matty licked a bit of icing off of his knuckle. “I like this one better than the one without.”

Bitty threw up his hands. “There’s no pleasing anybody in this house!” he groaned.

“El can be the tie breaker,” Jack said, coming in and greeting Matty with a fist bump. “Ready?” he asked.

Bitty tucked the container of brownies under one arm. “We’re heading out. Is Ryan coming over?”

Matty nodded. “His mom’s dropping him off in a little bit. He can’t stay the night, though. He has a swim meet tomorrow.”

“Well, tell them ‘hi’ from us,” Bitty said, “and make sure his mom knows we’ll be home later. You guys can order a pizza and put it on your debit card. The money I transferred earlier today should cover it.”

“Be back by midnight,” Matty said, clearly relishing the role reversal.

“Ha ha. _Behave yourselves_ ,” Jack warned.

Bitty gave Jack’s arm a reassuring pat. “He’ll be fine. What trouble can a couple of 15-year-olds get into?”

“I got into plenty,” Jack said darkly.

“Well, that was hockey culture,” Bitty said. “Those boys will probably end up playing Settlers of Catan all night.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jack said a little wistfully. “Maybe I should stay home.”

“Just go!” Matty yelled in exasperation.

“We’re going,” Bitty said, steering Jack toward out the door. “Shitty’s been planning this for twenty years, we have to at least pretend we’re excited.”

“I hope he doesn’t take us to a strip club,” Jack groused.

“My ears!” Matty whined.

Jack clamped his hands over Matty’s ears. “His ears!” He made Matty shake his head back and forth, drawing a smile out of Matty. “His poor ears. Bits, we’ve traumatized our son.”

Bitty’s giggle turned into a surprised gasp when he realized Matty must have had another growth spurt; he was almost as tall as Jack. When had that happened? Matty had always favored Jack, but looking at the two of them together now was like looking at a before and after compilation, a version of Jack at 15 that Bitty had never known and a glimpse of what Matty might look like a few decades from now. Matty was leaner than Jack because he didn’t play hockey, but they had the same eyes and the same dark hair. His facial features, too, had come to resemble Jack’s, his cheekbones sharper and jawline more defined than they had been just a year ago; there was no question he was a Zimmerman. Bitty took his phone out of his pocket and surreptitiously snapped a few pictures of Jack and Matty roughhousing. His in-laws would love them.

Bitty swallowed against the lump in his throat. “All right! Enough, you savages! No roughhousing in my kitchen!” Jack released Matty and Bitty nudged him toward the door. “Have fun!” Bitty said brightly. 

“You too!” Matty called as the door closed behind them. 

*

Over the past two years, they’d perfectly timed the drive to Samwell. Jack pulled into a parking spot in front of the rink and even though it hadn’t _exactly_ been a long time since their last visit, Bitty stopped just inside the doors to take it all in: the rink, the stands, the NCAA championship banners—including the one from Bitty’s senior year—that hung from the rafters. Faber had a distinct smell, and if he closed his eyes he could almost summon the feeling of being 18 and uncertain as he prepared to take the ice for his first practice with the guys.

“C’mon, Bits,” Jack whispered, nudging Bitty from behind. “Everybody’s waiting for us.”

And everybody was. Shitty and Lardo, Ransom and Holster. Bitty found himself manhandled into a group hug. “It’s been far too long!” he cried, squirming free and stepping back to get a look at Ransom and Holster. “When did you get in?”

“We’ve actually been in town since Wednesday,” Ransom admitted. “You can thank our company for the plane tickets.”

“When you’re one of the few calling the shots, nobody questions when you schedule a meeting in Boston,” Holster added. “Only problem is, we actually had to go to meetings in Boston.”

“We appreciate the sacrifice,” Jack said, offering fist bumps all around.

“Hey! Dad! Papa!” At the sound of Ellie’s voice, Bitty turned his attention to the ice, where Ellie stood with a few friends he recognized from the Samwell hockey teams: her teammates Corin Martin and Mel Chavez, Chris Chow’s son Mark, Ben Pierce, Jonathan Rubenstein, and Ivan Kostyuk. Introductions were made all around, though Jack needed no introduction.

“Gather round, boys and girls, and let Uncle Shitty tell you a story,” Shitty began.

“That sounds creepy as fuck,” Lardo interrupted.

“Of two young men who found love on this very ice.” He made a grand, sweeping gesture that encompassed Bitty, Jack, and the rink. “One has three Stanley Cups, and the other led your very own SMH to a NCAA championship. He’s also the only person, as far as we know, to pass out _multiple times_ on this ice.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“It was just like those fainting goats,” Ransom added. “We’d never seen anything like it.”

“And,” Shitty added as the laughter died down, “tonight we’re here to celebrate their upcoming nuptials with an old fashioned scrimmage. OG SMH versus young blood.”

“Does OG stand for ‘Old Geezers?’” Rubenstein chirped, to more laughter.

“You know it.” Lardo gave the kid a high five.

“Were you involved in this?” Bitty asked Ellie.

“Uncle Shitty asked me to make sure nobody else was using it. So we booked it for ‘practice’ this evening. You sure you’re up for this?”

Jack was already lacing up his skates. “Did you even have to ask?” Bitty asked. “I think you made his year.”

“We’ll see how he feels after we win,” Pierce said, skating up behind Ellie and lightly bumping her into the boards. 

“You may have youth on your side, but we have Jack Zimmermann,” Shitty reminded him.

“Who’ll be our goalie?” Jack asked. Bitty knew he was already running plays in his head. “Lardo?”

Lardo shook her head. “I’m sitting this one out. Honestly, I should be at our next location setting up but I didn’t want to miss this. It’s going to be hilarious. Shits hasn’t been on skates in years.”

“Then who—”

Ellie slowly raised her hand. “Sorry guys.”

Jack frowned. “El, you’re not a goalie,” he said a little uncertainly, and Bitty could tell he was trying to be polite. Because Ellie wasn’t a goalie. Ellie had, in fact, fallen to pieces whenever her youth coaches had tested her in the position, until everybody just finally accepted she was a forward like her father.

“El is a crap goalie!” Mark yelled from his position in the net. “I tried to teach her a few things, but don’t count on any of it sticking. You old men are going down.”

“Mark Chow! Do your parents know you speak to your elders that way?” Bitty asked, but he was laughing. The Chows and the Bittle-Zimmermanns had been close for years, in large part due to Jack and Chowder playing in the league at the same time. Bitty and the kids had often tagged along when Jack played in California, and Bitty and Caitlin had spent plenty of All-Star weekends wrangling their then-toddlers together. With his family in California, Mark had spent several holidays and long weekends with the Bittle-Zimmermanns when the team’s schedule prevented him from flying home. He was, by now, basically family.

“Is there any chance we can switch goalies?” Jack asked.

“Papa!”

“He’s kidding,” Bitty reassured Ellie and the rest of the players on the ice, most of whom didn’t understand this was Jack’s idea of a joke. ( _Was_ it a joke? Bitty was _almost_ positive it was.)

Ellie shrugged. “I don’t blame him. Dad, Papa, I’m counting on you to keep control of the puck.”

As he took the ice— _his_ ice, in his rink—a familiar spark of pride flared inside Bitty’s chest. This was where he’d discovered himself, and learned exactly how strong he could be. This rink had borne witness to some of his lowest moments, and some of his highest. In hockey, yes, but also as a person, a friend, a partner. So stepping onto this ice, feeling his past and future collide as his friends took the ice with his daughter and her friends, was enough to make him a little weepy.

“Bittle! Get your head in the game!” At Jack’s admonishment, Bitty snapped to attention and got into position. There were four Samwell captains on this ice, but everybody still instinctively looked to Jack for direction.

Although Jack won the face-off against his younger SMH counterpart (Bitty thought at least part of it was due to the younger man’s nerves over facing off against _the_ Jack Zimmermann), the game itself felt like skating uphill. Bitty and Jack still played together on occasion, could still read each other with just a look, but it wasn’t enough to overcome their out-of-practice teammates or their daughter in the goalie net. On top of that, Pierce and Rubenstein had the same kind of on-ice chemistry that had kept Bitty on Jack’s line, and played at a level that suggested Samwell might not be the end of the line for either of them. It was exciting to be on the ice with players of their caliber after all these years, but also a bit demoralizing to realize he couldn’t quite keep up. When they finally called it, Bitty staggered over to the boards to catch his breath.

Jack glided over and pulled Bitty into a sloppy victory spin. “We won,” he said happily.

“Yeah, but at what cost?” Bitty asked as they slid into the boards. He knew he’d be sore in places he’d forgotten existed tomorrow. “Does your knee feel okay?”

“I’ll have to ice it later, but it was worth it.” Jack missed being on the ice every day, Bitty knew. Seeing him this happy _was_ worth it, even if meant two days of listening to Jack grousing about his bad knee. “This was a good party, Shits.”

“It’s not over yet,” Shitty said. “This is just part one. We’re ditching these kiddos. Lardo booked the gallery for tonight.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Bitty said. “We’re just gonna change and say goodbye to Ellie.”

They found her in the parking lot fifteen minutes later, standing close to Ben Pierce. Bitty knew they were close, but with the knowledge that Ellie had started seeing somebody he suddenly found himself observing them in a new light. Whatever they were to each other, neither seemed very happy right now, their earlier lightness replaced by visible tension. Ellie’s mouth was set in a tight line, and Ben seemed to be frustrated about something. He could hear the words “don’t understand” and “love.”

At “love,” Ellie placed her hand on his arm and said something so quiet Bitty had to strain to hear. He thought he could make out the words “I know.”

“ _Jack_ ,” Bitty whispered, certain he was witnessing a breakup or, at the very least, a lovers’ quarrel.

“Shh.” Jack placed a calming hand on Bitty’s shoulder. “We don't even know if it's him. El!” he called. When she pivoted toward them, he waved. “We’re leaving.”

“Ah, okay, Papa. Don’t go yet, I’ll be right there.” Ellie turned back toward Ben and they embraced, Ben pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head before they separated. She ran over to Bitty and Jack and fell into step with them as they walked toward the car.

“Everything okay?” Jack asked quietly once Ben was out of earshot.

Ellie glanced back at Ben. “Yeah. It will be. It’s complicated.”

“Love is complicated,” Bitty said. “If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

Ellie frowned a little. “I hope.”

“We want to say goodbye before heading out,” Jack said, changing the subject. “And thank you for helping to organize this. It was a lot of fun.”

Ellie beamed. “I thought you’d enjoy it! It really means a lot to the guys too, to play with you and Dad. I think they’re hoping some of your luck will rub off on them going into playoffs.”

“Oh, well, I’m sure they’ll do great,” Bitty said, “they looked really good. I think all those boys could go pro, don’t you, honey?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Jack, who knew insider industry things but also knew people who could influence insiders in the industry.

Bitty was about to say more, but they were interrupted by the shrill honking of a car horn. Lardo and Shitty slowly drove by, Shitty hanging out the window. “We’re heading to the gallery!” he bellowed. “Don’t be late for your own party!”

“I need to go help Mark clean up. _Enjoy_ the rest of your evening.”

“Do you know what he has planned?” Bitty demanded. So far the evening had exceed his expectations, but Ellie’s devious smirk made him nervous.

Ellie mimed zipping her lips. “Can’t say. Just remember, it’s all meant to be fun.”

*

There were a lot of art galleries in Boston, but only one that mattered. Jack parked on the street and they took the stairs to the second-floor gallery, which was situated above a strip of retail outlets that included a bakery and a yoga studio. 

“You made it,” Lardo greeted them. “We were taking bets on whether you’d decided to ditch your own party.”

“We’re not that bad,” Bitty said. “I’m sure this will be a very classy soiree.”

Lardo raised an eyebrow. “You mean you don’t want to prove to your children you can still party like a frat boy?”

“Lord, I got that out of my system ages ago,” Bitty said, glancing in the direction of the bar in spite of himself.

“I bet Shitty ten dollars and a blow job that you’ll be up there doing the Single Ladies dance before you finish your third drink. Don’t disappoint me.”

Bitty glared at Lardo but when Jack subtly grabbed for his hand and squeezed it he began to reassess his stance.

“Nice place you got here,” Jack commented.

“Yeah, the owner must have good taste.” It was an open secret that Jack was the silent partner in Lardo’s artist co-op, that he’d put up the money to buy this building when the co-op outgrew its original space. Not that Jack was _just_ an investor; he was a full-fledged co-op member. He never really gave up his photography hobby after taking that one class at Samwell—Jack was _always_ the dad with the fancy camera who took way too many artsy vacation photos and ran around the sidelines at the kids’ sporting events—but after he retired he had more time to pursue it. He exhibited some of his work here two years ago. The brief writeup it received in a local arts magazine was framed on the wall in Jack’s office, next to NHL awards and family photos.

Tonight, they’d brought in a couple of couches and a pool table that weren’t normally here, and Shitty was mixing drinks at a makeshift bar that had been set up in the corner. Ransom and Holster were already racking the billiard balls, beers in hand.

“Come on, you need to try your drinks,” Lardo said, waving them toward the bar. “We have special drinks for each of you.”

“Ooh, so fancy, Ms. Duan.”

“I told you this is a classy party.” Lardo handed Bitty a glass of something pink and sparkly.

“Is this—?” Bitty asked, swirling his drink in his glass.

Lardo nodded. “Edible glitter,” she said, as they watched it settle. “Shits made it. He thought you should each have your own drink. I think he calls this one Bits of Heaven.”

Bitty took a tentative sip. He was no stranger to edible glitter _or_ neon beverages, having planned more than a few birthday parties for his children when they were younger (and, if he was being honest, having been to a gay club or two when he was younger), but he was a little skeptical of anything made by a self-declared “mixologist” whose claim to fame had once been “the strongest damn tub juice in the NCAA.”

“Well,” Bitty said after the first sip went down a little too easily, “it certainly is heavenly.” He thought he tasted rum, and peach schnapps, and he wasn’t sure where the neon pink color came from but he wasn’t complaining. “You want a taste, honey?” He handed the glass to Jack, who took a small sip and handed it back.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got one for you too,” Lardo said, handing Jack a whiskey glass. “Jack and Coke.”

“Strong and dependable,” Bitty said knowingly.

“Ha ha.” Jack accepted his drink and toasted Bitty.

They spent the two hours making the rounds and catching up with their friends until Shitty produced a cow bell from somewhere and rang it to get everybody’s attention. “Everybody refill your glasses and take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the two couches that weren’t normally here, “because it’s time for another game. Holster, take it away.”

Bitty, on his way back from another trip to the bar, found himself pulled down onto the nearest couch by Ransom, who was in the middle of a conversation about surfing with Jack. They were stopped by a stern glare from Holster.

“Gentlemen,” Holster began in what Bitty recognized as his game show announcer voice (truly, the boy had missed his calling), “welcome to the hit quiz show, ‘How Well Do You Know Your Man?’”

“What! That is not a real game,” Bitty insisted.

“It is.” Ransom nodded decisively. “Lardo says they play it at bridal showers.”

“Neither of us is a bride,” Jack pointed out.

“When did Lardo go to a bridal shower?” Bitty wondered.

“Look, Shitty and I both have a lot of female cousins and sometimes I have to go to their shit for the sake of family harmony. I’m not proud of it. And stop changing the subject,” Lardo said, handing Bitty and Jack each a white board and dry erase marker she’d stashed under one of the couches. “Bits, move over to this couch with me. You can’t look at each other’s answers.”

Bitty switched places with Shitty, who took the spot in between Jack and Ransom and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder.

“Now,” Holster said, “I’m going to ask a bunch of questions we all came up with, and you each have to answer honestly by writing your response down on your board. Each time your answers match, you get a point. If you don’t match, no point.”

“How do you win?” Jack asked.

“It’s not that kind of game,” Lardo said, to Jack’s clear disappointment. “It’s more to see how compatible you are.”

“If you fail, you should reconsider everything,” Ransom said gravely.

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” Bitty scoffed. “More than twenty years under the same roof and two kids, remember?”

Holster raised an eyebrow. “Then you should get a perfect score,” he said in his less-annoying regular voice.

“They’re not gonna fail,” Shitty said, “because they’re made for each other.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Bitty blew Shitty a kiss, who “caught” it and pressed his palm to Jack’s cheek. It set off a small scuffle, Jack capturing Shitty in a headlock and Shitty delivering an elbow to Jack’s ribs.

“Ow!” Jack gasped. “Your elbows are sharp, Shits!”

“Right?” Lardo asked. “They’re like fuckin’ weapons. He stabs me in his sleep, like, once a week.”

“First question!” Holster bellowed. Jack and Shitty released each other. “According to Jack, what is Bitty’s best attribute?”

“But there are so many choices!” Bitty, who might have been a little bit tipsy, protested. “My desserts, my tolerance for Bad Bob’s old hockey stories, my cute butt …” He studied Jack’s face, trying to divine his thoughts, when the answer suddenly came to him.

“Time’s up!” Holster announced, just as Bitty finished writing his response. “Your answer, Zimmermann?”

Shitty, looking over Jack’s shoulder, read, “‘Soft hands.’ Weirdo.”

Jack shrugged. “They are.”

“Bits?” Holster raised an eyebrow.

Bitty turned his white board around to reveal he, too, had written “soft hands.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a hockey thing or a sex thing, but it _is_ worth one point,” Holster said as Bitty bit back a laugh. “Next question: What is Jack’s best attribute, according to Bits?”

This time Bitty didn’t hesitate, quickly scrawling his answer on his board but second-guessing himself when Shitty announced, "Jack is writing a fucking paragraph over here." 

“And your answer?” Holster asked Bitty.

“He’s a good dad,” Bitty said without hesitation.

“Booooo!” Ransom and Lardo threw popcorn at Bitty.

“Hey!”

“Don’t listen to them, honey, you’re the best dad. But, um, some things aren’t meant to be shared outside the bedroom so I had to go with my gut.”

“ _Boooooo_!”

“Okay, fine!” Bitty picked a piece of popcorn out of his hair and popped it in his mouth. “If you’re really gonna make me say it, his butt.”

“He does have a fantastic ass,” Shitty sighed.

“I’m gonna marry that ass,” Bitty murmured, lazily stirring the ice in his drink.

“ _Yeah_ you are.” Lardo held out her hand for a fist bump.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“Truly, a mystery for the ages,” Holster muttered.

“Jack? What did you think he’d say?” Jack handed his white board to Shitty, who snorted before reading, “‘He’ll say I’m a good dad. But his real answer is my butt.’”

Bitty smiled smugly. “See?”

“Another match for another point,” Holster said.

“Are you keeping score in your head?” Jack asked. “Should somebody be writing this down?”

“Next!” Holster said, ignoring Jack. “Bits, what was Jack’s first impression of you?”

“Lord, we all know that.” Bitty bit his lip and took his time writing his response. On the other side of the room, Jack did the same. Nobody was surprised when their answers were revealed, again, to be the same: _small_.

“In my defense, I was _eighteen_. Lord, I was a baby.”

“I have no defense. I was an asshole,” Jack said, to nods all around.

“Okay, what was Bitty’s first impression of Jack?”

Bitty looked up and met Jack’s eye. “None of that talking with your eyes,” Holster scolded, catching the look that passed between them. “You have to do this on your own.”

“Y’all, you’re asking me to remember something that happened more than twenty years ago,” Bitty protested. “We are very old, and I also might be a little drunk right now.”

“Bullshit,” Lardo said. “We might believe you if you hadn’t told the story in one of your books.”

Lardo was right, of course. Even if Bitty hadn’t written about it in the introduction to one of his recipes, he would never forget the first time he met Jack Zimmermann, all broody and cold. There were a lot of things he could say about that day: that with just three words, Jack had made him feel small and unimportant, that he’d been certain they would never be friends, that he’d questioned whether he even belonged at Samwell. Yet it all came down to one thing. Bitty wrote one word on his paper and looked up. Jack was already finished writing.

Jack looked deeply uncomfortable as Lardo looked over Bitty’s shoulder and read his answer aloud. “‘Mean.’ Jack, what do you have?”

On his white board, Jack had written the same.

“Wow, Bits. Putting it all out there,” Lardo said.

“We all know it took us a little bit of time to see eye-to-eye,” Bitty said. “I forgave him a long time ago. Obviously.”

“Ready for another?” Holster asked. “I came up with this question.” He cleared his throat. “Who, out of the two of you, is the pushover parent?”

Jack. It was Jack, and everyone knew it.

“It’s Jack,” Bitty blurted out, forgetting he was supposed to write it down, just as Jack said, “Bittle.”

“It’s you,” Jack insisted over their friends’ laughter.

Bitty begged to differ. “Honey, you drove Ellie back to school last week and took an Uber home so she’d have her car with her!”

“You made her dinners for a week and sent them with us.”

“I did,” Bitty admitted sheepishly. “The last time I visited, her fridge was full of yogurt and sriracha. Even y’all weren’t that bad.”

“ _And_ you made Matty all those Rice Krispie treats for his bake sale with only 12 hours notice.”

“You drove him to school when he woke up too late to get them there on time.”

“Okay, we get it,” Ransom said, holding up his hand in a “stop” motion. “You’re both pushovers.”

“Bitty handles most of the discipline,” Jack added.

Holster snickered. “Sorry, bro. You gave yourself away with that one. Jack, _you_ are the pushover parent and since you disagree, no point will be awarded. Don’t worry, you have a chance to rally with this next question. What is Jack’s favorite pie?”

“Maple sugared apple,” Bitty said confidently, but he didn’t feel so confident when he saw Shitty’s smile falter as he looked at what Jack was writing.

“You sure, Bits? Maybe you want to try that again?”

“Is it … _not_ maple sugared apple?” Bitty asked, confused.

“It says ‘spiced apple,’” Shitty said. “I mean, I’m not the professional baker here, but I’m pretty sure sugar isn’t a spice.”

“Honey, you don’t like the maple sugar?” Bitty asked in disbelief. Of all the nerve! You thought you knew someone and then they pulled the rug out from under you.

“I love the maple sugar,” Jack placated. “But you know how you sometimes make that spiced apple? I like that one more.”

“Why didn’t you ever say something?”

“Because you’re always so happy when you make me the maple apple,” Jack said earnestly, which was somehow endearing even though he’d just revealed himself to have been lying to Bitty for who-knew-how-many years. Bitty narrowed his eyes. “It’s not _bad,_ ” Jack clarified. “It was the first dessert you made me that I really loved. I just think the spiced apple has a more interesting flavor profile.”

“Listen to him talk like a bakeoff judge. You didn’t even know what a flavor profile was when you met Bits,” Shitty said admiringly.

“And Bits didn’t know who Bad Bob was,” Holster reminded everybody.

“Well, we’ll see if I ever make you the maple sugared apple again,” Bitty huffed, but there was no heat in his words. Jack was right, it did make him happy to make things that made Jack happy, but this didn’t change anything, really. He just had a new pie to add to the favorites list!

“Lady and gentlemen, things are getting a bit heated,” Holster said. “Will our final question be the one that does them in? _Bitty_ ,” he said, pivoting in Bitty’s direction and sticking an imaginary microphone in his face, “what were you going to get Jack for your original wedding? Jack?” Another dramatic pivot. Jack slapped Holster’s hand out of his face. “Did he ever share it with you?”

“Adam Birkholtz!” Bitty yelped. “That’s a private thing I never should have told you about when I was drunk.”

“Bits?” Jack asked. “Uh, are we still playing this game? Because I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sweetie, it’s nothing bad, I promise. It’s just a silly thing.”

“It wasn’t silly, it was sweet,” Lardo reassured him. “If anybody could have pulled it off, it was Bitty.”

“I’m confused,” Jack said.

“ _Y’all_ ,” Bitty said, cheeks flaming. “Fine. Since all of you seem to know anyway—” he looked at Shitty and Ransom, who nodded in confirmation —“before our first wedding that never happened, I was taking a striptease class so I could, uh, surprise you on our honeymoon. Remember that dance studio next to the coffee shop by the old condo, honey? They had striptease and burlesque classes at night, and Lardo and I started going once a week. I told you I was taking a mixology class, remember? And then, after a little while, I started talking to one of the instructors about choreographing a private dance for our wedding night.”

Jack’s expression didn’t noticeably change; it wouldn’t when they were with their friends. But Bitty, who was well versed in the subtleties of Jack Zimmerman’s micro expressions, saw the corner of his mouth just _bareley_ quirk up and his ears go red. Bitty felt the back of his neck heat up in response, and he wondered how much longer they had to stay until they could get out of here.

“But then everything shut down because of the pandemic,” Bitty continued quickly, “and I didn’t want to continue the lessons on Zoom because you were always home and I didn’t know _how_ I could practice without giving it away. We didn’t get married or go on a honeymoon anyway, so it never happened. Are you happy, Adam?” he asked, glaring at Holster.

“Not until I see the dance,” Holster said.

“You can use your imagination for that,” Bitty said primly. Across the room, he caught Jack’s eye. Jack responded by taking a long drink from his water bottle, eyes never leaving Bitty’s. “Hey, Holster,” Jack said as he lowered the bottle, “you still seeing that one chick? What was her name?”

“Jolene?” Shitty asked innocently.

“Jolene the Texas Beauty Queen!” Ransom, Lardo, and Jack yelled together.

“I still cannot believe that’s her name.” Bitty took a sip of the new drink Lardo had just brought to him, which he would probably regret in the morning, but for now everything seemed pleasantly fuzzy around the edges.

The game was forgotten as the conversation turned to the woman Holster had dated when he first moved to Texas. Bitty mouthed a “thank you” to Jack and settled back to listen to Holster and Ransom, once again, tell the story about meeting Jolene at a karaoke bar during a weekend trip to Austin. Over the years the Jolene mythology had grown so that nobody knew what was true and what had sprung from Holster’s (or Ransom’s) imagination. Sometimes Jolene was a former Miss Teen Texas, other times she was a Taylor Swift backup singer. Once, she was a disgraced politician’s wife. Ransom, allowing for beer goggles, always put her age “somewhere between 25 and 50,” and always lost it when he got to the morning after part of the story, when Holster woke up alone save for a blonde wig on the pillow next to him.

Successful in his mission to divert everybody’s attention away from Bitty and the game, Jack stoodand made a show of stretching. “It’s late. We have a kid to get home to,” he announced, and Bitty took his cue.

“Gosh, you’re right. It’s been a time, but we should really get back.” Bitty swayed a little as he stood, suddenly aware of the five rum drinks he’d downed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Ransom asked.

“He’s driving—” Bitty pointed at Jack —“and he’s _very_ responsible.”

“I only had one drink,” Jack added.

“You can stay with us,” Shitty offered. “No need to shut this party down early.”

“Matty’s at home alone,” Jack repeated.

“Oh, but we can have brunch tomorrow!” Bitty clapped his hands. “Everybody come over, I’ll make cinnamon rolls and a frittata!”

Lardo snorted. “Bits, you’re going to have a hangover the size of Texas tomorrow.”

“He’s gonna have a hangover the size of Jolene’s wig tomorrow.” Ransom and Holster fist bumped.

“You underestimate his ability to make drunk brunch,” Jack said.

“Just get your man home and we’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Shitty said. “Is Jerry’s still around?”

“Jerry’s,” Bitty said with an air of disgust, “is now a ramen and doughnut place.”

“Perfect hangover food.” Holster said approvingly.

Jack nodded. “Just ask our daughter.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, do not blaspheme!” Bitty gasped “Our daughter is only twenty! She would never.”

“Oh, but she would.”

“Ellie is a good girl,” Bitty sputtered, “she—”

“Tells me about these things because this is how you react when she tells you,” Jack said gently, putting an arm around Bitty’s shoulders and pulling him close. “You remember being in college,” Jack said. “All those kegsters? And Spring C? You weren’t exactly an angel, bud.”

“As far as my mama knows, I was.”

“And that’s our cue to go,” Jack said. They said their goodbyes, promising to touch base in the morning about brunch.

Bitty could feel his eyelids getting heavy as Jack drove them home on mostly deserted streets. He’d had enough to drink that the streetlights seemed lit with an unearthly glow, extra bright centers surrounded by blurry halos. If he focused on them too much he began to feel a little dizzy. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last drink.

“Bits.” He felt Jack’s hand on his knee and he opened his eyes to discover they were parked in their own driveway. “Come on, let’s get to bed.”

Bitty fumbled with the door latch, only to give up and collapse back into his seat in defeat. “Help me,” he pouted.

Jack took his time getting out of the car and coming around to the passenger side to rescue Bitty, his very own knight in shining armor.

“Come on, Bittle,” Jack said, gallantly extending a hand to help him out.

“My hero,” Bitty simpered.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” Jack murmured affectionately as he tucked Bitty under his arm and guided him up to the porch.

“You’re past your curfew,” Matty accused from the couch when they staggered in, Jack propping Bitty up. “And Dad is … drunk?” He set his video game controller down. “What did they do to you?”

“Hush your mouth,” Bitty said, sitting down on the couch and resting his head in his hands while Jack went in the kitchen for water. “It’s good for kids to see their parents are human,” he mumbled.

“I know, this is great!” Matty hooted. “I’m gonna hold this over your head for years. I can’t wait to tell El.”

“Don’t tell El,” Jack said, sitting next to Bitty and handing him the water. He rubbed gentle circles into Bitty’s back as he drank. “He’s going to feel bad enough in the morning.”

“Will not,” Bitty retorted. In fact, he thought he might be getting a second wind.

“Well, I’m tired,” Jack said. “Matts, don’t stay up too late playing that game. We’re going to brunch with everybody tomorrow.”

“Do I have to go?”

“Yes,” Bitty said automatically.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Jack said, proving once and for all, Bitty thought, that he was the pushover parent.

Up in their room, Bitty thought he’d never been so glad to see his soft sweat pants and old t-shirt. He had his jeans down around his hips when he noticed Jack had paused in his own undressing and was just watching him.

“Like what you see?” Bitty asked. He stepped out of his jeans and hooked a finger through Jack’s belt loop, pulling him toward him. He reached a hand up to feel the stubble on Jack’s cheek. “You’re a real cute drunk.”

“I’m not,” Jack chuckled, placing his hand over Bitty’s. “But you are.”

“Only a little,” Bitty lied. He’d wakeup with a hangover, he just knew it.

“Enough to remember that dance?” Jack asked hopefully. He was giving Bitty the look, the one that made Bitty feel desired from head to toe.

“Lord.” Bitty pulled at his collar, suddenly warm. “There was a little of this,” he said, pressing himself up against Jack and grabbing his butt. He tilted his head to look up at Jack. “And then I would do this,” he said, slowly circling his hips. “Of course, in my fantasy we were both wearing a lot less, and I was a lot more flexible back then, and—”

“Bits, this _is_ my fantasy. You’re perfect.”

“So are you, hon,” Bitty said, resting his head on Jack’s shoulder.

Neither of them was perfect, but Bitty knew what Jack meant. They were happy, and that was its own kind of perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease: Jack and I are getting married today!

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease: Six months of *begging* my teenage son to cut his hair, yet somehow his grandfathers were able to convince him in two minutes. I think there may have been bribery involved. Thank goodness for grandparents.

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease: Honestly, I have no idea what those three talk about. Two old sports guys and a kid whose idea of a fun weekend is a debate competition. But they've always been thick as thieves.

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease: Huh. Ellie tells me they talk about golf.

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease: Hard to believe my daughter spends half her time in sweaty hockey gear. She’s definitely Jack’s daughter, but is as glamorous as her grandmother when she wants to be. She looks so beautiful in her bridesmaid dress and my mother-in-law’s pearls it takes my breath away.

**6:15 a.m.**

There had never been any doubt in Jack’s mind that his daughter had inherited every ounce of Bitty’s flair for the dramatic, but it was especially apparent on the morning of their wedding.

“You have to leave _now_ ,” Ellie announced, breezing into the kitchen in leggings and an oversized Samwell hoodie, blonde curls piled messily on her head. The Dunkin’ iced coffee cup in her hand was only half full, ice already melted.

“It’s six-fifteen.” Jack took a long, slow sip of his coffee. “How long have you been awake?”

“You’re getting married in less than twelve hours! I’ve been up for hours.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Don’t worry, Papa, I got enough sleep,” Ellie reassured him, sounding suspiciously like Bitty used to when he pulled baking all-nighters to avoid homework. “Dad is going to be up soon; you need to get out of here. It’s bad luck for you to see each other before the wedding.”

Jack stifled a laugh. “It may be too late for that. We share a bed.”

“Was he conscious when you woke up?”

“Your _father_?”

“Right, you have a point. Since you haven’t technically seen each other, I’ll let it slide. But you still can’t be here when he comes down.”

“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little far?”

“ _Papa_.” Ellie grabbed him by the wrist and attempted to pull him out of his chair, a futile effort. “The guest house is all set up with your clothes. Just … go in there and watch sports or something until it’s time to get ready.”

“Don’t you need help setting up?”

“My friends are on their way.” Ellie handed Jack his mug. “ _Hurry_!” she yelped, as the upstairs floorboards creaked. “Dad!” she yelled. “Don’t come down yet!”

“Ellie, hon?” Bitty called. “Everything okay down there?”

“Everything’s _fine_!” Ellie yelled in frustration. Jack finally decided to humor her and refilled his coffee, though he took his time doing it, then grabbed a second morning glory muffin from a basket on the counter.

“Jack, is that you down there with Ellie?” Bitty called.

Ellie made a slashing motion across her throat and jabbed a finger at the door.

“El? Is Papa down there with you?”

“Euh … I’m heading over to the guest house,” Jack called, ignoring Ellie’s disappointed look. “Because we’re not supposed to see each other until the ceremony!”

“Oh! I didn’t realize we were being that traditional, you big romantic.” Ellie flashed Jack a smug I-told-you-so smile. “Well, can you take Daisy with you? The last thing I need is her hovering around me while I make breakfast burritos for all these kids who are coming to help out.”

Jack called the dog to him and grabbed her leash from the hook in the mudroom. It was only as the door closed behind them that he realized he was still wearing his pajamas.

**3:30 p.m.**

Jack stood in their bedroom doorway, tie in hand, watching Bitty button his shirt. “Hey, Bits,” he said, “will you help me with my tie?”

“Jack!” Bitty yelped, color rising in his cheeks. “I thought it was bad luck for us to see each other before the ceremony.”

“Some would say it’s bad luck to live together before marriage, yet somehow we’ve managed.”

“Come here, then,” Bitty said.

Jack’s mother had taught him to tie a tie when he was a preteen, had insisted it was something every man should be able to do. She’d said the same thing about washing the dishes and doing the laundry, which had served Jack well. But he liked it when Bitty helped him with his tie. How many times had they performed this ritual, in this bedroom and hotel rooms all over the country? Jack thought the count must be in the hundreds by now. It was a little intimacy they both enjoyed.

“Honey. You look _amazing_. Let me see you,” Bitty said as Jack entered the room and stood in front of him, tie held out like an offering.

“You’ve seen me in this before. You were with me at the fitting,” Jack said, but he humored Bitty, holding his arms out to his sides and slowly spinning so Bitty could admire him from every angle.

“It should be illegal to be so handsome. How am I gonna make it though the ceremony and reception with you looking like _this_?”

Jack had always had a shaky relationship with body image, but Bitty had made it very clear, very early in their relationship, that he was attracted to Jack. Even though the game and time had taken a toll on his body, Bitty’s admiration hadn’t waned. It was evident in the whispered compliments, the more public compliments in his blogs and books, and especially in the way Bitty touched him and looked at him, still so loving and reverent after all these years.

“You should have gotten a new suit years ago,” Bitty said, gently tightening the knot at Jack’s throat.

“Haven’t needed to wear once since Ellie’s graduation.”

“And that one was at _least_ five years old,” Bitty said fondly. “Not that I’m complaining. I like a man in a well-tailored suit, no matter if it’s out of style. But I’m glad this one is _in_ style. You look like a model.”

“You look good too, Bits.”

“Abel did a good job with my suit, didn’t he? I might even like it better than the first one.”

Bitty still had the suit he’d had made for their wedding that never happened; he’d eventually worn it to some NHL awards reception. It had been their first big event since Ellie’s birth, and they’d both been nervous and excited about a night away. Jack still had one of the professional pictures from that night, framed and sitting on his desk in his home office. Bitty was stunning in the light gray, slim-fitting suit, and whenever Jack looked at it he thought about what he might have looked like on their original wedding day.

Every year or so Bitty cleaned out their closet, and he always took the suit out of the “donate” pile at the last minute. He couldn’t bear to get rid of it, he told Jack, even though it was out of style and a size too small. So he’d asked Abel to make a more contemporary version for _this_ wedding using a similar color and fabric. It wasn’t an _exact_ match, but it was close enough, and Bitty wore it so well it almost took Jack’s breath away.

Bitty picked up the bowtie that was sitting on top of his dresser. “Will you?” he asked.

Jack took the tie out of Bitty’s hand and looped it around his neck. After almost three decades, he could tie Bitty’s bow ties in his sleep. Bitty took a deep, shaky breath. “Are you nervous?” Jack asked.

“I didn’t think I was, but all of a sudden it just hit me. We’re getting _married_ today.”

“It’s not going to change us.”

“I know. We’ve never needed a piece of paper to prove what we are to each other. I think at some point I started telling myself it was silly when we already had so much. But _Jack_ —” Bitty looked up at Jack, eyes shining with unshed tears “—honey, I want to marry you so bad.”

“I want to marry you too, bud.”

**3:45 p.m.**

Ellie stood at the window, back to them as she gazed out at the yard where half of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team and a fair amount of the women’s team were setting up the rented tables and chairs. She’d changed into her bridesmaid dress since Jack had seen her last, a teal thing with a flared skirt that reminded Jack of a dress his mother had worn in a 1950s period drama.

“Keeping an eye on your minions?” Bitty asked as they walked into the kitchen together.

“Dad!” Ellie yelped, spinning around, skirt flaring out around her. “You scared me! And you’re not supposed to be together,” she accused. “Papa, why did you leave the guest house?”

“I needed your dad’s help with my tie,” Jack explained. “I’ll sneak back before the ceremony, if it’s that important to you.”

“It’s fine,” Ellie said, shaking her head in exasperation. “You’re already here.”

Bitty joined Ellie at the window and put his arm around her shoulder. “It looks good, baby girl. You might have a future in event planning. If that’s what you want.”

Ellie beamed and Jack felt his heart twist in that bittersweet way that had become all too familiar, pride in the woman she was becoming mingled with grief that she was no longer their little girl. They stood there, the three of them, until a knock at the door reminded them they only had so much time to finish getting ready. “Oh, hang on.” Ellie twisted out of Bitty’s loose embrace.

“We should probably go check on Matty anyway,” Bitty said. “Have you seen him?”

“I think your dad is helping him get ready. Or… my dad is helping him get ready? Somebody’s helping him.” 

“Did I tell you that boy has grown another whole inch since his suit fitting last month? When we went to pick it up they had to do a quick fix.”

“At this rate he’ll be taller than me.”

“Dad? Papa?” Ellie returned to the kitchen, trailed by Mark Chow. “I’m actually glad you’re both here. I wanted to introduce you to—”

“Mark Chow!” Bitty cried. “Did you come with your parents?” Ellie, wild-eyed, sent Jack a pleading look and he suddenly understood exactly what was happening.

“No, uh, they’re still getting ready at their hotel.” Mark tugged at his tie like it was strangling him. “I came early.”

“Of course. Some of your teammates are already here, I think they’re setting up chairs. Ellie will show you where—”

“Bits—” Jack began.

“Unless you just need to use the facilities, which of course you’re welcome to. You remember where the guest bathroom is, don’t you?”

Poor Mark’s face had gone a violent shade of red, but he seemed resolved to let this moment play out.

“ _Dad_. Mark isn’t here to help set up. Or _use the facilities_. He’s here with me. As my date.”

“Your—” Bitty looked from Ellie to Mark and noticed, for the first time, the way they were looking at each other. “ _Oh_.”

“We’re glad you’re able to join us today, Mark,” Jack said, the manners his mother had drilled into him at a young age compensating for Bitty’s stunned silence. “Ellie has … well, she hasn’t told us a lot about you because we’ve known you all your life but, uh, we’re looking forward to getting to know you better, obviously.”

“What Jack is trying to say,” Bitty added, finally finding his voice, “is that you’re welcome here any time.”

“Uh, thanks,” Mark said.

“Mark is leaving in a few weeks to go to prospect camp in Seattle,” Ellie said, giving Jack a meaningful look.

“Goodness, Mark, that’s wonderful news!” Bitty babbled, clearly still trying to process all the information they’d been given in the past minute. He pulled Mark and Ellie into a somewhat awkward hug. “Your father didn’t mention it the last time I talked to him! Does that mean you’re considering playing after Samwell?”

“That’s the plan,” Mark said, stepping back as Bitty released them. He rested a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, a small gesture that loomed large in Jack’s mind. “I’m going to Vancouver, too.”

“So are you fixin’ to go back to the West Coast?” Bitty asked. It sounded innocent, but Jack knew what Bitty was really asking. So did Ellie, who narrowed her eyes and subtly shook her head.

“It would be nice,” Mark admitted, missing the silent message between father and daughter, “but I’m willing to go to whoever’ll have me. Andrew,” he said, naming the agent who had represented both Jack and Chowder, “said he wants me to go to the Falcs’ camp too. I’d be willing to stay on this side of the country,” he said, looking at Ellie, “if I had a good reason to stay.”

It struck Jack that Mark wasn’t just talking about _his_ future.

“Well, you know we don’t have a bad word to say against the Falcs,” Bitty said. “Do we, Jack?”

“No,” Jack said, finally finding his voice. “O’Hare is getting a bit long in the tooth. They’d be lucky to have you. Any team would.”

“It’s a long time away,” Mark said. “Have to finish school first. I’m just lucky I have my dad to help guide me. I guess you know all about that.”

“Yeah,” Jack laughed, feeling a kinship with the younger Chow. He didn’t know if Mark and Chowder’s relationship was as fraught as his own had been with his own father during his teenage years, but theirs was a unique experience most players couldn’t relate to. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Come on,” Ellie said, tugging on Mark’s arm. “I think the rest of the guys are outside.”

“Have a good time!” Bitty called as they exited. “We’ll see y’all in a little bit!” He waited until the door closed behind them to turn to Jack. “ _Mark_!” Bitty whisper-yelled, eyes wide. “I was _so sure_ it was Ben. How did we not guess it was Mark? They’ve known each other forever.”

“They haven’t been— _you know_ —forever, do you think?” They’d known each other since they were babies. There was a possibility, Jack allowed, that Ellie and Mark had been together a lot longer than she’d let on.

“Oh lord, he was here last Thanksgiving!” Bitty recalled. “No. There’s no way. They weren’t a thing then,” he said with a confident nod of his head. “I always suspected she had a little bit of a crush on him when they were younger, but there’s no way they were together way back at Thanksgiving. We would have been able to tell.”

“Would we? Did your mother suspect anything the first time I visited you in Madison?”

“That was different,” Bitty said primly. “She was still trying to convince herself I was straight, and in her mind there was no way a big, manly jock like you could be interested in men.”

“Okay,” Jack conceded, “but they did spend a lot of time baking together that weekend.” Jack suddenly remembered the way he’d walked in on Ellie patiently demonstrating how to make a pie lattice while Mark valiantly tried to follow along with his own dough. “Isn’t that where it started for us?”

Bitty’s expression softened as he looked up at Jack. “Yeah,” he breathed. “At least, that’s where I knew I wanted you. Took you a few months to catch up to me.”

“What’s a few months compared to a lifetime?” Jack asked, taking Bitty’s hand in his. “You sure you still want to marry an old hockey player?” he asked, tracing circles into the back of Bity’s hand with his thumb. “There’s still time to back out.”

“Been sleeping with one for years,” Bitty said saucily. “Might as well make it official.”

**5 p.m.**

“Are you ready?” Bitty asked.

They stood just outside the barn, Ellie and Matty on either side of them. This was it. Ellie and Matty had already escorted their grandparents to their seats, and now it was showtime.

“Circle up,” Ellie said, guiding them into a makeshift huddle the way Jack had done for family meetings when they were younger.

“Ellie, really?” Bitty asked, laughing. “You prepared a pep talk?”

“No,” Ellie laughed. “Just, I want to thank you for letting us do this. I know it doesn’t change anything. At the end of the day we’re still Bittle-Zimmermanns and marriage is just a tool of the patriarchy, as Uncle Shitty likes to say. But it means a lot to me that you’re going to be official.”

“It means a lot to us, too,” Bitty said. “Thank you for doing this. Both of you.”

“Ellie did most of it,” Matty admitted. “But I’m glad, too.”

“You chose the churro truck,” Ellie said magnanimously. Then, in a horrified aside to her fathers, “He’s already had _three_.”

“You made me work through lunch,” Matty whined.

Bitty placed a calming hand on each child’s shoulder. “Enough. Shake it off and smile like you mean it because it’s go time.”

As an instrumental version of “Halo” began to play inside the barn, Jack thought about all the people waiting on the other side of the doors and felt a flare of anxiety, the way he often had before a big game, but it quickly flamed out when he looked at the faces of his family. They were the three most important people in his life, and they were doing this together. “Let’s do this, Bittle-Zimmermanns,” he said.

Ellie kissed each of them on the cheek. Matty gave fist bumps all around, then linked arms with his sister. Their smiles, Jack was relieved to see, were genuine. They pushed the double doors open and disappeared inside, giving Jack one last private moment with Bitty.

“You ready, Zimmermann?” Bitty asked, squeezing Jack’s hand.

“Got your back, Bittle.”

They’d workshopped several different versions of their entry, but in the end decided proceed down the aisle together. They were a team.

As they made their way down the aisle, Jack caught glimpses of family and friends seated in no particular arrangement. It was tradition, he knew, for each partner’s guests to sit on their own sides, but they’d been together for so long that it was hard to remember who belonged to whom. Jack saw former teammates seated beside Bitty’s cousins from Georgia, fellow PTA parents next to Nicole, Bitty’s longtime editor. The people who meant the most to them, all on the same team.

When they reached the altar, Shitty beckoned to their Samwell friends seated in the second row and Ransom and Holster, seated on either end, unfurled a banner that read, “Yo, Marry Me, Jack Zimmerman.” They were met with confused laughter in the audience and Bitty’s quiet, “ _Y’all_.”

“You can’t blame a guy for trying.” Shitty shrugged. “In all seriousness, none of us ever had a chance. Jack once told me Eric is like hockey, which, if you know Jack at all, you know is high praise.”

“When he was five he told me he wanted to marry hockey!” Jack’s father yelled.

“My point is,” Shitty continued, “once these two finally got their shi—er, _act,_ I see you, Mrs. Bittle—together, we all knew it was it for them. There’s nothing like seeing your two best bros fall in love. And there’s nothing like seeing them stay in love, and build a family and a life together that, let’s be honest, we all envy.

“You aren’t kids anymore. I don’t need to explain commitment to either of you. The vows you’re about to make, and the rings you’re exchanging today, are reminders of the commitment you made to each other years ago. I’m told you wrote your own vows. You ready, Jack?”

Jack had never been great with words; those were Bitty’s thing. Words spilled out of Bitty, filling the spaces around them and filling Jack up. Jack had always been content to soak them in. But today, in front of their family and friends, he wanted to get this right. When he’d sat down to write his vows he found that nothing he could write came close to what had been in his heart for so long. So he’d jotted down a few notes, knowing he wouldn’t need them.

He took a breath and cleared his throat. He could see Ellie and Mattys’ smiling faces in his peripheral vision, but his focus remained on Bitty as he began to speak.

“Eat more protein.” There were a few confused chuckles in the audience and Jack waited for them to subside before he continued. “For those of you who haven’t been around since the beginning,” he said with a meaningful glance at the Samwell crew, “those were the first words I ever said to Bitty—Eric—when we met. Little did I know he’d turn the tables on me and I’d spend the rest of my life eating pie.” More laughter and knowing nods from their guests. “Back then, we were teammates but I didn’t think we’d ever be friends. I didn’t think we had anything in common. But over the course of two years we did become friends, and then best friends, and eventually we fell in love. Because it’s impossible not to love you, Bits. I never thought a lot about my feelings before I met you, but I knew that you made me feel the way hockey does. I never had to think about hockey, I just knew it felt right and I didn’t need anything else. That’s how I felt about you, long before I knew it was love.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Bitty whispered, dropping Jack’s hands so he could swipe at the tears in the corners of his eyes.

“So when people ask me how I knew, that’s how I knew. And once I knew, I couldn’t go back to not knowing.Before I met you I could only see hockey. I didn’t think I needed—or wanted—anything else. But you helped me see there was so much more to life than hockey. And now, I see our family and home and the future I didn’t let myself dream about before I met you. It’s hard to remember there was a time when I _didn’t_ want all of this.

“When I proposed to you for the first time, I told you my years at Samwell were the best years of my life because that was where I met you. But those years don’t begin to compare to the years we’ve spent together since then. Our story began at Samwell and now we’re here. Do you remember when I visited Madison that Christmas before you graduated?”

Bitty, whose eyes had never left Jack’s, nodded.

“During that visit, we talked about our next steps. I didn’t know they’d lead us here, I just knew I wanted to take them together.”

Bitty wasn’t even attempting to hide his tears now. Matty pulled a tissue out of his jacket pocket and handed it to him.

“So today, in front of our family and friends, I’m making that commitment again. To us, to our family, and to whatever comes next.” Jack could feel his own tears on his cheeks, laughed when Bitty reached over and wiped one away with his thumb.

“That was beautiful,” Shitty said, dabbing at his own eyes. “Bits, you’re up.”

Bitty took a couple of deep breaths and gave Jack a watery smile. His hands were trembling. Jack took them in his own. “Lord!” Bitty said, more to himself than Jack or their guests. “Look at me getting all emotional. Didn’t think it would all hit me this hard.” Jack squeezed Bitty’s hands twice, and Bitty squeezed back. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” he began, “if you’d told little 18-year-old me that my intimidating hockey captain was my future husband, I probably would’ve gone running back to Georgia. All I wanted to do was fit in, and I had enough trouble doing that without having a big ol’ crush on my hockey captain. Which I didn’t at first, because you made it difficult to like you. Let’s just say—” Bitty looked out at their friends and family—“it took us a little while to warm up to each other. I certainly didn’t appreciate waking up for those early morning checking practices, and I know _you_ didn’t appreciate waking up to my singing on the weekends.”

“Still don’t,” Jack chirped, thinking of all the sleep he’d lost over the years to Bitty’s early morning shower performances. Their guests’ gentle laughter seemed to settle Bitty, who visibly relaxed.

“Lord knows we still have our differences, and some years haven’t been the easiest, but that’s all part of our happily ever after. And for a kid growing up gay, in Georgia, happily ever after was never a guarantee.

“Jack, you’ve owned my heart since that day I taught you to bake pie for our Women, Food, and American Culture class we took together, but it really started before that. We had to learn to trust each other as teammates. Everything we have has come from that foundation. You’re my best friend and my partner. I guess after today we can add ‘husbands’ to that list, but we all know that’s just a label. As thrilled as our kids are that we’re _finally_ making it legal—” Bitty turned toward the kids, who high-fived—“this doesn’t change anything about you and me.

“Most of the time, a wedding is a beginning. Everybody wishes the happy couple well, and tells them about all the milestones they have to look forward to. Well, you and I have always done things a little differently, haven’t we, Sweetpea? Most of the things we used to dream about have come to pass. Our kids, this home. We’ve made a beautiful life together. I can’t promise you the world, Jack, because you’ve already given it to me. But I promise we’ll keep exploring it together.” Bitty tipped his head up toward Jack and smiled the small, private smile he reserved for Jack, as though everybody else in the room had ceased to exist. For Jack, they had. Everything was just the two of them, until the were jolted back to reality by the sound of Shitty's voice.

“Well, I don’t know that I can say it any better than those beautiful gentlemen just did. Do we have the rings?”

Ellie stepped forward and handed Bitty’s ring to Jack, and Jack’s to Bitty. They hadn’t purchased new ones, but they’d had them cleaned and the date engraved on the inside of each.

“So I’ll ask you, Jack Zimmermann, do you take Bits to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” Jack said, slipping Bitty’s ring over his finger.

“Eric Bittle, do you take Jack to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I absolutely do.” Bitty beamed up at Jack, his smile the brightest thing in the room. The cool, familiar weight of Jack’s ring as Bitty slid it onto his finger provided instant comfort; he hadn’t felt right all day without it.

“Then by the power vested in me by the State of Massachusetts,” Shitty said, “I proclaim you married. Fucking finally. I’d tell you to kiss but—”

Jack and Bitty were already kissing. _This_ had always come naturally to Jack, even when words failed him. If he closed his eyes, they could be in Jack’s old Haus bedroom doing this for the first time, or on the ice after a Stanley Cup final, or in their home after one of them returned from a long work trip. Kissing Bitty was as easy as breathing. Always had been.

“Oof!” Jack abruptly broke away from Bitty as the kids crashed into them, fancy clothes and the bouquet Ellie held forgotten as they crushed their parents in a group hug.

“How do you feel?” Ellie asked, picking a flower petal out of Bitty’s hair.

“Don’t ask him that when he’s crying,” Jack said.

“I’m _not_ crying,” Bitty sniffled. “I’m just happy. Anyway, you’re crying, too.”

“And you didn’t think you needed to get married,” Ellie said. “I’m proud of you two.”

“I’m proud of _you_ two,” Jack said, ruffling Matty’s hair. “All of this happened because of you.”

“We’re a pretty great team,” Bitty said. “I like us.”

“I like us, too,” Ellie said.

“When do we eat?” Matty asked.

**10 p.m.**

Jack had to hand it to Ellie, she’d made sure every detail was taken care of when it came to the reception. The site of many dinner parties and photo shoots, their expansive property was typically lit with simple fairy lights, but tonight Ellie had hung dozens of paper lanterns from wires she’d strung between the trees. As dusk fell, their spacious-yet-ordinary yard transformed into a dreamy wonderland. The colorful glow the lanterns cast over the space as Jack and Bitty danced to “Halo” reminded Jack of the fireworks that had exploded over him and Bitty as they watched the show from the back of Coach’s pickup truck during Jack’s first Fourth of July in Madison.

The weight of the day hit Jack in the middle of a conversation about the NHL playoffs with Chowder, Tater, and some SMH players. Chowder and Tater, both of whom had a tendency toward over-exuberance, only got louder as the conversation wore on. Despite being outside, Jack was beginning to feel claustrophobic. “I’m going to get some water,” he said, excusing himself.

Bitty was already at the bar, glass of champagne in hand. “Help me!” he hissed, tugging Jack toward him. “Aunt Judy is trying to pitch her ‘book’ of ‘modern Southern classics’ to Nicole and I’m gonna die of secondhand embarrassment.”

Jack chuckled. “Do you want me to distract Aunt Judy? We can send an unsuspecting college kid over to ask her about her jam.”

Bitty seemed to consider it. “It’s a tempting offer, but I kind of just want to ditch the lot of them for a while. I’ve been wanting to get you alone all night. We’ve hardly seen each other.”

“You want to leave our own wedding reception?”

“That,” he said, placing a hand on Jack’s bicep and taking a step closer, “is exactly what I’m suggesting. Just for a little while,” he added. “Long enough to get some fresh air.”

“We should probably stop in the house and feed the animals,” Jack said.

“So practical. Shall we, Mr. Bittle-Zimmermann?” Bitty linked arms with Jack and led him past the dance floor, away from the reception. There were still a few couples slow dancing, including Ellie and Mark, who seemed oblivious to everything else.

“They look very close,” Jack observed.

“Weddings tend to bring that out in couples,” Bitty said. “She worked so hard to put this whole day together; I’m glad she gets to have a little fun with her beau.”

“You know when you say that you sound like you’re from the 19th century.”

“I’m _Southern_ ,” Bitty defended himself.

“And clearly your mother’s son. Remember when she couldn’t bring herself to say the work ‘sex’ around us? What were we? ‘ _Involved_?’”

“Oh lord, that’s right,” Bitty snickered.

“A _goalie_ , though?” Jack asked. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Mark Chow is a lovely young man,” Bitty said. “And she couldn’t ask for better potential in-laws than Chris and Cait.”

“ _In-laws_?”

Bitty shrugged. “Not _soon,_ obviously. Maybe not ever. But it _could_ be her wedding, next time we get dressed up like this. And I’m not just saying that because she’s seeing somebody. We’re old, Jack. How many weddings do we get invited to these days?”

“Jesus.” Jack was still getting used to the idea that their daughter had a serious boyfriend; he wasn’t ready to think about being the father of the bride. “It’s still new,” he said, trying to reassure himself.

Bitty raised an eyebrow.

Jack knew what that look meant. Ellie’s relationship might be a new thing, but he couldn’t discount the idea that Mark might be it for her. After all, the realization that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Bitty had come to Jack mere seconds after he’d realized he had feelings for him.

“Hey, Mr. Bittle-Zimmermann,” Bitty said, interrupting Jack’s spiraling thoughts. “I didn’t drag you out here so you could get all maudlin about how grown up our kids have gotten. I dragged you out here so I could get you alone.” He took a step closer and placed a hand on Jack’s waist, tilting his chin upward until their lips met in a kiss. His other hand found its way to Jack’s backside and had just settled on his favorite spot when a flash of movement in Jack’s peripheral vision caught his eye.

“Euh, Bits,” he groaned, breaking the kiss. “I don’t think we’re alone.” He angled his head in the direction of the interruption. In the dim light he could just make out two figures, heads bent together and voices low as they approached.

Bitty turned and squinted at the couple. “I don’t recognize them. Is that—”

Jack clapped one hand over Bitty’s mouth and pulled him against him as the voices grew louder. He could see, now, that it was two men, though he didn’t recognize them either. Their proximity indicated a level of familiarity, yet their bodies were tense.

“I just… I need to know if that’s ever gonna be us,” one of them said sadly.

“Do you want it to be us?” his partner asked.

“I’m not saying I want to _marry_ you. I’d be happy knowing we’re gonna last beyond the summer.”

“Of course we’re going to last beyond the summer. I thought we were taking this slow because _you_ wanted to. Ruby, I love you.”

In Jack’s arms, Bitty was practically vibrating with excitement. He pinched Jack’s side. Hard.

“Ouch, shit!” Jack whispered, releasing Bitty.

“You love me? I thought this was just, you know— ” Now Jack could tell that the couple in question—and they did appear to be very much a couple, even if at least one of them was unsure of their status—was Jonathan Rubenstein and Ben Pierce, the latter of whom he had briefly suspected of being Ellie’s secret boyfriend.

“You thought we were just … what? Fooling around?”

“You told Alisa Hendrix you don’t want to be in a relationship,” Ruby accused.

“I told her that because I’m in love with _you_ ,” Pierce said again. “I want to be in a relationship with _you_.”

“ _Oh_.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Bitty whispered, hand over his heart. “Sweetheart, I think we should find some other place to do this,” he said as Pierce and Rubenstein embraced. Jack nodded and adjusted his tie. “Such a beautiful night,” Bitty said loudly to announce their approach. He nodded at the boys. “Gentlemen,” he said without missing a beat. “Jack and I thought we might take a romantic walk and look at the stars, but it would be rude of us to stay out here and ignore our guests.” He took Jack’s hand in his. “If we _were_ going to stargaze, though, the best view is right at the edge of the property, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

Jack bit his lip to keep from laughing and squeezed Bitty’s hand as they passed the younger couple. “Bits!” he hissed when they were out of earshot.

“What?” Bitty asked innocently.

“You know what,” Jack murmured.

“They remind me of us. And I’m just saying, if we’d had a gay fairy godfather to step in a little earlier, it might’ve saved at least one of us a little heartache.”

Jack snorted. “How long have you been waiting to call yourself that?”

“ _So_ long,” Bitty giggled. “Hey, are you hungry? I just realized we’ve been so busy taking pictures and socializing I haven’t eaten anything all night.”

“We did spring for a churro truck. Assuming our son hasn’t cleaned them out.”

They split a churro, neither in a particular hurry to get anywhere yet aware they would eventually have to return to the party. When Bitty pulled Jack into the barn, where just hours earlier they’d promised each other forever, Jack pulled him close kissed the cinnamon and sugar from his lips. Maybe it was just the champagne and emotions running high, but kissing Bitty had never been so sweet.

**2:18 a.m.**

“Yard’s a mess,” Jack said, looking down at the yard from the vantage point of their bedroom window. The last of their guests had finally left, leaving only the evidence of the biggest party the Bittle-Zimmermanns had ever thrown. If they went to bed now, they could get a good six hours of sleep before their parents and the Chows returned for a late breakfast before their flights home.

“It’ll keep,” Bitty said through a yawn. “El said half the team is coming back tomorrow to help with tear down.”

“They’re good kids.” They’d been out on the dance floor until 1:45, but they were good kids.

“They even got _you_ to dance. Might have to get you to show me those moves again in private. Tomorrow, though. I’m gonna fall asleep standing up if I don’t get to bed soon.” Bitty’s eyelids looked as heavy as Jack’s felt.

“Kind of makes me regret not doing this sooner,” Jack said. “Didn’t realize how fun it would be.”

“I like it better this way,” Bitty whispered, voice low and warm. “Now, for the rest of our lives, I’ll be able to look right out that window and see the spot where we promised each other forever. Again.” 

As they turned to get into bed, Jack caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror above the dresser and caught Bitty’s eye. 

“Not as young as we used to be,” Bitty said, moving until they stood side-by-side.

“You put a ring on it. Can’t take it back now.”

“I would never.” Bitty wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist and rested his head on his shoulder. “This is what happily ever looks like.”

Their life was extraordinary at times, but it was the private moments like these, the soft touches and teasing banter, that Jack loved the most. This was them, the same as they’d always been, older now but no less in love than they’d been the day Jack proposed so many years ago. It was a quieter kind of love now, but solid and unshakable, deeper than Jack ever could have imagined when he was twenty-five. 

This was their happily ever after, after all.


End file.
